And this is why dragons left Morrowind alone
by Sir Punchalot
Summary: Morrowind is infamous for many reasons: the Blight, a strong presence of deadra cults, inhospitable locals, the Devil under the Mountain and, worst of all, the cliff racers. Apparently, it has somehow gotten even worse... there is a dragon on the loose. His goals? Figure out this Thu'um thingy, help the Nerevarine save the world and troll as many people as possible. The horror!
1. You are not Jerry

**Hello everyone! Welcome to my... Let's see... I guess it would be sixth fanfiction I wrote (not including oneshots and quite a lot of stuff I wouldn't dare to call decent fanfiction back from when I was learning). It is however the first time I publish anything on Fanfiction. Were you ever in situation when one idea invaded your mind and refused to leave until you wrote it down? That's the case with this story. What to expect? Comedy, Adventure, Humor, Friendship, maybe some Romance, trolling, scheming, dragons acting mysterious just for fun, multiple questlines, cheese and lots of Dovahzul. For now, rating is T - in my opinion a few curses are nothing for teenagers these days. Enjoy!**

 **EDIT: Now with edits made by DeathLord-92**

* * *

 _That's it. The first time I get a chance, I'm going to beat up that sack of maggot shit I call a friend._

Oh, sure, no one is perfect, Ted was aware of that. He himself wasn't great friend material, at least according to others, though it was beyond him why so few could stand a sarcastic gamer with a knack for scheming. Sarcasm is just a type of humor and scheming wasn't aimed at his buddies... usually.

But Jerry? No, no, you don't want to have that kind of person as your friend. Let me paint you a picture. You invite all your bros for a party. What does Jerry do? He comes in the middle of a party, no matter if he was invited or not, already drunk and advancing towards the legendary realm of ultimate intoxication. He immediately proceeds to flirt with every girl in sight, right after he's devoured all of the best snacks that is. Few minutes later he starts a fight because of someone "thinking too loudly" or something like that. Just before or after that he throws up either at someone or at your rug. The series of disasters continues for hours and ends in one of three ways. First ending, someone has had enough and knocks the asshole unconscious. Second ending, Jerry does that himself with a great deal of booze. Third ending, Jerry loudly demands of you to drive him home, since you are the host. You usually obey, since the only thing worse than driving anywhere with a drunk Jerry in the backseat is him trying to reach sobriety in your house, hence why third option is best.

I suppose now you more or less understand what kind of a guy Jerry is, even if I skipped how he behaves while sober (not that it's much of an improvement). However, when he _is_ sober, he is also great at convincing others, which brings us to current situation.

Ted hated camping. He was a city person, a gamer. As for mountains, they were nice, but only on pictures. So Jerry, being the terrible person he was, combined two and, by winning a bet, made him go with him to camp in the mountains. Apparently Jerry was one of those people who thought that the only reason others don't like things they do is because they didn't have enough of the stuff.

And that rises a question. What does Jerry do after making a camp? No, surprisingly he doesn't get drunk. At least it seems like that. There was no way to confirm, since he disappeared. Idiot left a note on his sleeping bag from which Ted learned that he went to "check out some cool caves nearby".

Now, don't get me wrong, Jerry was a plague to this world. Ted honestly wouldn't care if he had, for example, broken his leg, except for the part in which Jerry would demand extensive medical attention from him. The problem? If that was the last time anyone saw Jerry, who do you think would be blamed?

Ted wasn't a bad person, really. If it was anyone else, he would without any hesitation go for a search. In the end he did that for Jerry too, though for a moment he considered strangling him as soon as he found him. The thing is, he just knew Jerry would be fine. It doesn't matter what kind of mess the bastard stepped in, in the end every time he will be more or less fine, either due to his luck or because someone reluctantly helped him. In other words, Jerry was a proof karma doesn't exist.

And here we are. Ted, with a flashlight in hand, was marching through the first cave he found. In the other hand he held a bit of chalk, just in case he found crossroads. Unfortunately, he didn't have any weapon. It was unlikely he would find anything really dangerous in this area, but it would come in handy in a meeting with a mutated killer racoon, or whatever attacks campers these days.

"Jerry?" Ted asked, sweeping the cave in search of his annoying friend... colleague...companion... **ass** ociate, yes, let's go with that. "Jeeeeerryyyyy..." grumbled our protagonist and chuckled. _Yeah, while it is still creepy, "Gary" is so much scarier._ "Come on, man, I know you are somewhere. I swear, if I'll find you sitting in a corner with an empty bottle, I'll smash it on your hea... GOD DAMMIT!"

He stopped at the last possible moment. One more step and he would find himself in a freefall - there was a pit in the floor of the cave, as if someone made it for a single purpose of making Ted fall to his death.

"Someone out there is out for my blood." he muttered, crouching in front of the hole. It wasn't too big to jump over it, but big enough to make it risky. What are the chances Jerry went in this particular cave and jumped over the gap instead of falling in, like he almost did? Ted nodded and stood up, turned around and... _Wait, what was that?_

He narrowed his eyes. There was some sort of weak blue light deep in the pit, barely noticeable due to distance. He pointed a flashlight into the hollow, but it wasn't strong enough to light it all the way.

"That's one deep hole," said Ted and immediately facepalmed. _Why was I born with mind so corrupted I make innuendos without even trying?_

Let's take a break for a moment. Personally, I, mystical storyteller, prefer that you learn something from stories, no matter the genre. There are so many things I could tell you about, from proper techniques of spelunking to quantum physics and a possibility of warping between dimensions. Fortunately for you, I realize the best lesson is the one you learn at the expense of someone else. This particular lesson is the same one you could learn by reading the first chapter of "Alice in Wonderland".

Never _ever_ lean over a large pit if you are not sure how trusty is the ground under your feet.

 ***CRACK***

"OOOOH SHIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii~!"

Children, don't do that at home.

* * *

Have you ever tried to swim while partially paralyzed? Ted just did. Not that he had much of a choice, mind you.

"Blargh!"

That was a terrible first attempt.

In theory, Ted should be grateful that there apparently was a lake at the very bottom of the pit - the fall took several seconds, so water was the only reason he was still alive. He would be grateful, if not for one little detail - temperature.

 _Ice! Ice, oh God, why?!_

After several seconds of desperate swinging of all his limbs in a very cold liquid, an action that definitely didn't deserved to be called swimming, Ted finally managed to grab an edge of massive rock and with unexpected difficulty pulled himself out of the lake. He lied there for a long while, breathing heavily.

"I hate water." Ted took a few more moments to gather some strength and raised his head. He blinked a few times, but all he saw was a great deal of nothing. "Wonderful. I might be blind as well at this point, it's too dark. I'm not diving into that pond for my flashlight."

Ted attempted to stand up. 'Attempted' was a key word here. He immediately lost his balance and tipped over, landing on his back and smashing his head on the hard ground. For some reason, while it was still unpleasant, it was much less painful than one would expect.

"Greetings, pain, my old pal," he groaned. He frowned. Did he suffer some injury? Most likely. His arms for example felt really weird. Maybe not "broken weird", but definitely not a good kind of weird. His bigger concern was an apparent loss of agility - he managed to stand on all fours and he could still crawl, but even that felt strange, as if he wasn't just moving, but also trying to pull something heavy. He looked behind to check it, but...

 _Why... Why can I turn my head so far?!_

Terrified at the prospect of spine damage, Ted ceased to move. He stood still like that for almost a minute and then slowly lied down.

 _No, no, that doesn't make sense._ If anything, a damaged spine would immobilize him, not give Ted more dexterity. _But if that's not the reason... then what is?_

Then, suddenly, it dawned on him.

 _That fall must have messed with my labyrinth._ That's why he felt now so clumsy and disoriented. _Oh God, I hope it's temporary. Hold on... Is that...?_

Yes, it was. There was a silent, rhythmic sound, echoing somewhere from the darkness. Footsteps.

* * *

"Jerry?! Is that you?!"

Fjol blinked. What kind of name is Jerry? He shook his head. He will ponder the stupidity of some parents after he finds and "evicts" the guy who apparently already claimed the cave for himself. It took too long for him to find it, he's not going back into that rain... as long as it wasn't something too challenging, that is. Even his nordic might has limits. Roof over your head isn't a good consolation prize for becoming Telvanni's guinea pig. He shuddered and tightened his grip on the battle axe. Oh Talos, Telvanni. One meeting was enough, he will never try to steal from those psychos again. Then again, they live in the east, right? No danger of meeting one here.

 _Alright, enough of this._ He was a barbarian and he solves all his problems in the same way - by hitting them a lot on the head. The warrior took one more calming breath and, aware that he can't sneak up on his target due to his torch, sprinted in the only direction the cave led to in hope of ending the fight before the enemy even knew what was happening.

Nord turned a corner and frowned. There was a big, dark object right at the edge of the underground lake. He took one more step onward and the light of the torch reflected on the shiny surface.

Suddenly, the thing shifted and Fjol realized it was alive. Alive and much bigger than him, which was never a good sign, especially in a setting like this. The creature slowly turned around and the man fully realized just how much he angered Akatosh by robbing and killing that priest last week.

"Is that you, Jerry? I can't see well, you dropped your torch... Dude, no one uses those anymore."

Fjol was no fool, despite what some may say about Nord barbarians. He knew what he could and couldn't do. He was also aware that, if some criteria were met, you shouldn't clash with a foe. Suddenly finding your pants filled with feces was definitely one of them.

"You are not Jerry."

Fjol did the only thing he could do in this sort of situation - turned around and, quickly increasing a distance between himself and the danger (yes, that sounds much better than escaping, gotta remember that for later), shouted the only word that was going through his mind.

"Dragon!"

* * *

 _What a weird man._ Ted blinked a few times, looking at the place where but a few seconds ago stood a stranger in armor of all things. _Probably some LARPer... Quite realistic armor though, I'll have to ask him later where did he get it. Helmet, not so much. It was clear he was going for a Viking barbarian, but he forgot the horns. It wasn't a Viking if there weren't any horns._ Ted nodded sagely. _And who in the world LARPs all on their own in caves? Oh well, at least he was kind enough to leave his stick behind._

Ted approached the torch, still haunted by an indescribable feeling of wrongness. Once he did get there he reached out... with... his...

 _Nope._

 ** _Error 427_**

 _A problem caused the program Ted to stop working correctly. Sheogorath will close the program and notify you if a solution is available._

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So, what do you think? The proper story hasn't started yet, but that's mostly because originally it was intended as a one thousand words long prologue. How it ended up twice as long, I have no idea, I woke up in the morning and it was just there, taunting me. Taunt was a success, now I'm searching for a new laptop.**

 **Fjol is the same criminal Larrius Varro, Legion Champion at Moonmoth Fort, wants us to punish in the name of justice. You know, the guy that waits in the entrance to Hla Oad and warns you of bandits, only to demand money if you mention murderous outlaws. No, he won't play any major role. I just like to use already existing, but underdeveloped characters instead of making OCs just for the sake of a single encounter. I simply find it more interesting to add more depth to what is already there, expect it to be a regular thing.**

 **I guess you can already notice where am I going with this fic - a slightly manipulative dragon companion for Nerevarine. The best thing in Skyrim put in the best game. Sorry, but that's my opinion, in games it's the plot that I value the most and both Skyrim and Oblivion can't hold a candle next to the storyline of Morrowind.**

 **Alright, I've wrote enough. I myself dislike long Author Notes at the end - I read, read, read and suddenly I'm attacked by the end of the chapter, even though there was supposed to be more text. Until next time, which should be soon - I pretty much already have second chapter ready.**


	2. Flying for derps - what to avoid

**I must say, writing this story is surprisingly effortless, considering writer's block that tormented me before I started. Before we start, let's give an answers to my reviewers so far:**

 ** _empire1003_ \- Then I hope I will give Morrowind justice, so that you can see it from the best side.**

 ** _Unclebourbon_ \- Hopefully I'll keep up with quality. Thank you.**

 ** _guest_ \- I realize some may prefer it, but personally I like the lack of restrictions in how much I can reveal while writing. By writing in Ted's POV I would have to at least give up some jokes, which doesn't really sit well with me - I like my option to joke about anything anytime. There might be of course moments when I switch to first POV for the sake of building up tension, but most of the time I'll write in third. That's just part of my style.**

 **I would like to thank people who already favourited, followed or even viewed the story, even though we haven't even gotten to the true beginning of the plot. Thanks for putting up with me, I know my grammar can be hideous, English isn't my first language. Also, thank you for not burning me at stake for not stating that Elder Scrolls doesn't belong to me. In all honestly, why so many people write those disclaimers? It's not like this site, which by the way is called FANfiction, commands you to add them. That being said, enjoy.**

* * *

Alright, there's no arguing that a mental breakdown is a terrible thing to experience. However, sometimes, if you pick the correct person in the right circumstances and, well, if you are a bit of a jerk, it can be quite amusing to watch.

Just like in this case.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" screamed Ted, staring at his wing. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" he continued, looking at the other wing. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Ted chased his own tail for a few seconds. "Aaaaaa~ Oh, GOD, where's Junior?!" he screeched, taking a peek at his crotch. This action was followed by an attempt at reaching there with what was left of his hand (three fingers attached to his wing). Of course, due to his new anatomy, this kind of movement was impossible. "No, no, no!" Suddenly, in the weak light of the torch, he spotted a big wooden crate a bit to the left. Ted jumped and collided with it, crate smashing him between the legs. "Argh! Alright, it hurt less than it should, but it did hurt, so Junior is still there, probably under the scales... Oh God, why, why, _why_..."

At this point Ted attempted to curl up in a fetal position, but discovered he couldn't do even that. After this failure he slumped to the ground and closed his eyes. "This is a dream, this is a dream, this is... Wait, can you even feel pain while asleep?" He stiffened, trying to recall what he knew about biology. "Hold on, yes, I remember, it can happen, but it's very unlikely... Well, turning into a dragon is even more unlikely, so it must be that... Oh, who am I kidding, my dreams are never so realistic!" Ted bonked his head on a rock. "That leaves... hallucinations, a coma and Loki being real."

The next few minutes were spent on pondering in a relative silence, interrupted occasionally by his growls. Finally, after a quarter of an hour, Ted opened eyes, raised his head and sighed deeply.

"Well" he began. _Perhaps it will make more sense if I will say it out loud_. "I'm either in a coma or I finally went crazy from all this shit I had to deal with because of Jerry. Wouldn't surprise me, really. I'm not even going to entertain the idea that I'm both sane and conscious." He smiled. "Either way, this must be my Happy Place. Where I'm a dragon. That... actually sounds legit. Dragons are at the very top of the list of fantasy creatures I like. And if this is indeed my mind... then I can do whatever I want. If I'm physically in some hospital, then I might as well have some fun with lucid dreaming. Jerry is a jerk, but he would call an ambulance if something serious happened to me."

He took a look at his surroundings. The cave was round, with only one way out, which was cloaked in darkness. Except for the area near said exit, the place was filled with water. There was no hole in the ceiling - not that he expected to see one here, as the pit was part of the real world, not his fantasy. To his left and right stood some crates. Ted crawled to one of them and looked inside. It was filled with bottles. He wasn't sure in this faint light, but it looked like wine.

"Yep, theory confirmed, that's my Happy Place. My favourite kind of booze."

And then terrible realization hit him.

"...How am I supposed to drink it?"

...

"...Fuck. My subconscious is a dick. Gives me two great things that can't be enjoyed at the same time."

He shrugged.

"Oh well. I can take a drink when conscious, but I can't fly on my own then, right? Yes, that's what I should do now. First some flight, then I'll find some figment of my imagination, preferably one with an appearance of Jerry, and roast it, just because I can... Man, I really hate that guy."

Ted braced himself.

"To the surface, please!"

Silence.

"Sure. One time I have a dream that I know is a dream and I still can't fully control it."

* * *

"I'll ask for the last time, outlander scum. Why. Were. You. In. The. Cave?!"

Fjol winced. That man sure had no patience.

It was official, the Divines had cursed him. He managed to escape the wrath of the dragon, only to run into the outlaw that owned the place just outside the entrance, leaving little place for excuses. He couldn't even hide, there were no places to do so in this foyada, just a long, empty road between two small mountain chains. And the worst thing about the enemy?

He was a Dunmer. One that disarmed him in five seconds, knocked him out, and tied him up. The only reason his old man wouldn't disinherit him for that was because he had already thrown him out for banditry.

"I told you already, I only searched for a place where I could wait out the rain" he said. The best lies are those that have some truth to them.

"And you accidentally picked the cave in which my friends made their stash?" snarled the elf.

 _Keep talking, ashface. One more minute and I'm out of here._

"Don't act so suspicious, pointy ears. Half of the caves in this province is filled with bandits. I was trying to find one that isn't." He hesitated for a moment. Should he mention it? Well, it would make him look like a fool, but it will probably give him some time... "By the way..." he started. " I didn't know you dark elves still had some dragons around."

It was clear, even with the helmet on, that he completely surprised his captor.

"Dragons? What are you talking about, there are no..." He stopped for a second, blinked and burst into laugh. "By Vivec, you Nords sure traded brains for brawns. Those are called cliff racers."

"Are they worth anything on the black market?" _Yes, keep talking, I'm almost done..._

This question only caused more laugh.

"No, idiot. One cliff racer is already one too many in this world."

"Then why do you keep one in your cave?"

"...What?"

Fjol shrugged as much as could while tied.

"You think I jumped out of there like that for no reason at all? I turn the corner and boom, dragon."

The Dunmer's palm met his helmet. In the meantime Fjol almost finished cutting the ropes on his back with his dagger.

"I can't believe your stupid species managed to force ours to join your little Empire." The elf sighed. "To be scared of a cliff racer... If there was one, that is. They just don't land outside of their nests. Look, the only thing they do is fly down and try to scratch your face off or bomb you from above just to spite you... and sometimes they steal your sweetroll, flying bastards. A cliff racer not only landing, but also crawling into the cave? Please, if you lie, at least put some effort into this... You had some reason, didn't you? What are you hiding?"

"Huh, so it's the Elder Scrolls... I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Heads of both outlaws turned so fast in direction of the entrance to the cave it almost broke their necks. It was a lucky thing that Dunmer had a helmet on or else he would have lost his jaw after it dropped.

" _Drem yol lok_. Or, as you _joore_ say, hello." If you were to look into a dictionary, you would find a picture of Ted's present expression right under "shit-eating grin". "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need some pointers. Which way is the nearest _sahsun_... I mean, village?" For a second dragon's smile tensed, but almost immediately it returned to his default smirk. "I always wanted to set one on fire without any bad consequences."

Fjol, since it wasn't his first contact with the beast, shook off the surprise first and, not caring much for either town, gladly answered.

"We're halfway between Hla Oad and Seyda Neen. The first one is a bit bigger." _Also, Dunmers make up more population, so that's another plus._

Suddenly life came back into the other outlaw. With shaking hands he pulled out a blade and pointed it towards the new opponent.

"S-stay back! I won't hesitate to fight you!"

Dragon only smiled.

"I'm sure you won't, _fahliil_ " Again strange expression, just as brief as the last one. "But the question is - is your blade faster than my tongue? Can it impact me faster than my words can impact you?" The beast took a step and another. Mer tried to keep distance, but he tripped and landed on the ground, with his weapon falling just out of reach. Before he could pick it up, the enemy closed the gap.

"Let's see how fireproof you Dunmers really are."

Dragon took a deep breath, while his victim lied there petrified with fear. Fjol, who by this time managed to free himself, decided to not wait and see if he will be the second victim, so he run off as fast as possible.

The killer opened his jaw.

" _Yol... Toor Shul!_ "

And then, poor mer died a terrible, but mercifully quick dea... Oh wait, no, he didn't. He got only slightly sprayed with dragon saliva.

This turn of events seemed to surprise both of them.

* * *

 _Alright, that's just stupid. First I'm speaking in Dovahzul when I don't want to and now, even though I'm a freaking dragon in the world of Elder Scrolls inside my head, I can't shout a bandit to death?! What's next, the Empire actually wins the civil war instead of the true sons of Skyrim?!_

Ted closed his eyes and shook his head. Something was wrong. Sure, subconsciousness can sometimes be an evil bastard, but if it wanted to torture him, it wouldn't put him in one of his favourite fantasy scenarios in the first place. He opened eyes.

 _Hold on. Where's the elf?_

 ***JAB***

"Argh!" shouted Ted and jumped to the side. The bandit was again in possession of his sword, which he already used with some success - there was a shallow cut on his side. There was even some blood leaking out, though not much.

Blood. His blood.

Suddenly, for some reason, Ted was overwhelmed by a very bad thought - what if, by some cruel joke of the fate, it was real?

"Die, monster!"

Another cut, this time on his flank. Deeper, too.

Red flags were raised inside his mind, even though both wounds were far from lethal. Panic was in full control.

"NO!" Ted turned away from the prey that suddenly became the hunter and attempted to escape. It was of course not possible - there was a reason why a dragon hit with a Dragonrend could not escape from the Dragonborn. Dragons don't run, period. Once grounded, they crawl.

 _No, it won't work, the bandit is faster on foot! I'll have to fly away!_

Ted had no idea how to, but he had to take to the air at any cost. With no other option, he unfurled his wings. Unbalanced, he ended up with his chin hitting the ground, but still he gave one powerful flap with what used to be his arms. Despite all logic, it was enough to lift him a little bit.

Inside his head, Ted's sanity had flipped the table and left.

The first flap was quickly followed be the second, which got him out of Dunmer's range, and a third, this time only because it was better than letting the gravity do it's job. Ted's irrational fear of death at elf's hands gave way to bewilderment at his current position, which soon turned to fear once more, as he realized he had no idea what to do besides flapping... which was getting him higher than he wished to be, considering his rediscovered belief in reality of what was happening to him. He already was higher than the mountains making up the canyon.

He was sure it wasn't the correct word, but do you think he cared at the moment about linguistic correctness?

And then, as if the situation wasn't bad enough for our hero, a strong gust of wind came from the north, tilting slightly the drake in the air.

"Noooot aaaagaaaaaain!" screeched Ted, half gliding and half falling in the direction of the sea, leaving the foyada in the process.

Around three hundred meters below, the Dunmer scratched his head, still surprised about how suddenly he went from dying to scaring off a dragon. With two pokes of the sword, no less.

"No wonder they went extinct."

* * *

"Bwahahahaha! This is even better than I expected! And I expected him to eat his own intestines or get killed by a mudcrab! Oh, what I wouldn't give to see the look on Akatosh's face right now... if he HAD a face, that is! Which he DOESN'T. Haskill, bring the drinks, bring the dancers! We need to celebrate this! Akatosh not having a face, I mean. Don't invite Clavicus, though. He keeps stealing my umbrellas."

"As you wish, my lord."

* * *

Every time he saw dragon landing on the ground in the game, it always looked a bit rough, maybe even painful. And that was the "proper" landing. Not crash landing.

Well, it could have been much worse. Instead of slamming into the ground at full speed, he had managed to pull off gliding in the last two seconds of fall, and then hit not the ground, but a shallow bay, taking his second forced bath this day. It still hurt though.

That leads us to a grumpy Ted sitting in the water, with only his head above the surface due to his new, longer neck.

"I'm done," he proclaimed to several frogs and a slaughterfish, which apparently decided that biting through dragon scales was its new life goal. "I'm sooooo done. I'm pretty sure I'm not a masochist at heart, but that means all of this is real. Which I refuse to believe in. I'm not drunk enough to deal with this kind of bullshit."

He sighed.

"I must find a place to nap, maybe that would help. Not in the open though."

Ted scanned his surroundings and, for once, fate had shown him mercy. The dragon dragged himself onto the shore and crawled over to the round structure he remembered very well from the third installment of Elder Scrolls.

"So... a Dunmer tomb. The wood in the door is rotten, so it's most likely forgotten by everyone." He mumbled to himself and shrugged. Don't ask how it worked with dragon body. "It's much bigger than it seemed back then, but it still will be a pain to get inside. Let's just hope I won't stumble upon some necromancer." With no way to open the small lock, he decided to simply headbutt the entrance, tearing the door off its hinges at the cost of small headache. Plenty of cobwebs confirmed his earlier guess. The staircase leading deeper into the tomb was wide enough for three or four people, but for him it was going to be challenging.

The entrance itself caused the most problems. He put the head inside casually, but his wings simply refused to cooperate. Ted grunted, took a few steps back and rushed onward.

He did it. He obliterated the jamb and gained some new bruises, but he did it. Sadly, that also meant he was going too fast to stop himself and fell down the stairs.

With his vision wavering from way too many hits to the head in the last few hours, he searched the room for any danger. It was your typical long hall with small altars and urns under the walls, very common in tombs of Vvardenfell. There was a door at the other end, most likely leading to the rest of the crypt, but Ted was honestly no longer giving a single fuck - the lack of enemies in the room was good enough for him. He lied at the center of the hall and, due to some new instinct, moved his long tail so that the tip was near his head when he went to sleep. In a few moments he was already in the realm of dreams.

The stubborn slaughterfish was still gnawing at his scales.

* * *

While the protagonist of our story was entering the embrace of sleep, another hero was slowly leaving it, unaware of the role she was going to play in the future of this land.

 _They've taken you from the Imperial City's prison, first by carriage and now by boat. To the east... to Morrowind. Fear not, for I am watchful. You have been chosen._

Many fall, but two remain.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Alright, this note is a long one. Let's start with some little curiosities.**

 **As a matter of fact, there is a cave roughly half between Hla Oad and Seyda Neen. It's a bandit hideout called Zainsipilu, we forcefully close their business as a part of building a Hlaalu stronghold. Besides storage area (in which you can find mostly beverages) and bandits' quarters it contains a slave den, but no underground lakes. You can either assume it's the same cave, but with added lake and before bandits moved in or that the place isn't canon at all, though it is close to the one I mentioned. The tomb itself actually is 100% canon, but this Note is already long enough, so I'll talk about it in the next chapter. As for unknown Dunmer bandit? Well, he might appear later and actually get a name, but unless that happens, he is unimportant enough to leave him nameless. He most likely will reappear, if only so Ted can get some sweet revenge once he figures out the controls, noob.**

 **Yep, Ted actually supports the Stormcloaks. Deal with it. Opposing an entire Empire fits him much better than killing rebels in the name of unity. Also, most good fics I found had Dragonborn siding against Ulfric, gotta balance things out... also, I may or may not prefer them myself.**

 **Ah, and the Nerevarine... It's going to be a she, that's for sure. Just think of this awkwardness when a female Nerevarine meets his, her, ugh, their ex, Almalexia - priceless. Besides that, nothing is set in stone - I'm still coming up with the story and I haven't even decided on race, but the idea of Khajit/Argonian Nerevarine is tempting, especially the first one. Since those are two races Dunmer despise the most, it makes a room for a lot of interesting situations. Being saved by the one you hate... Huh.**

 **Have any thoughts you want to share? Some ideas how to improve the fanfic? Any advice? If so, you know where Post Review button is. Until next chapter (which, by the way, will be called "Divine Intervention"). It will be published most likely next weekend - usually I don't have an access to the computer on work days.**


	3. Divine Intervention

**Reviews time!**

 ** _Guest_ \- So far there simply wasn't a moment good enough to insert Ted's description from his own point of view. Originally it was in this chapter, but I decided to cut it into two and it landed in the second half, so it will be in next chapter.**

 ** _Koal_ \- Why, thank you! I appreciate it. Good to know I'm doing something right.**

 **Now, here comes the third chapter. As I said, it was longer, but I decided to cut it right here and give the second part tomorrow. Please, deal with this forceful and a bit unoriginal exposition in the middle, I just didn't want for Ted to either doubt in everything that surrounds him or stumble blindly, not knowing at all what to do.**

* * *

Few things are as wonderful as looking at something beautiful, which you expected to never see again. Our hero would certainly appreciate it even more, if it didn't happen to be the sun, blinding her eyes after few months of imprisonment.

"Here's where you get off. Head down to the dock and they will show you to the Census and Excise Office." Said the Redguard soldier to her right. The prisoner, still a bit drowsy, did as he said... as soon as she stopped staring at a massive flea standing across the cove. It was even bigger than a two-storey building at the other end of small dock.

 _...Where_ _in the world they had taken me?_

"Ah, you've finally arrived..." Her attention focused on another soldier, this time an Imperial, who walked up to her once she left the ship. He seemed a bit abashed. The reason for that quickly became obvious. "Though... I'm afraid that there were some complications. Some of our records were recently lost and as such you'll be required to fill in some paperwork. Name, jobs, that sort of thing."

"Um, I'm called Azirra and..."

"No, no. The one you need to talk to is Socucius Ergalla. Just go through that door. I'm sure you will fit right in." Guard stood there for a second and chuckled, confusing her. _What is so funny?_ "I couldn't keep a straight face... Go, don't keep them waiting."

Azirra shrugged and entered the office. Right across the room stood the most sacred object in the world of bureaucracy - the desk. There was so much paperwork on it she barely noticed an older Breton behind it. He was furiously searching for something, however in all likelihood it would be easier to cut a slice out of some Oblivion plane and bring it to Tamriel than to find one specific document in this pile.

"I'm sorry... Are you Mister Ergalla?" she asked.

The official, who up to this point hadn't noticed her arrival, yelped and dropped a stack of papers. For a second she thought he was going to explode, but the look of fury immediately changed into delight.

"Finally!" The man bent down and picked up a single page from the ground. "There it is! What a relief, Duke Dren would have my head if I were to lose it... Oh, I'm sorry, did you say something?" he added, finally noticing the Khajiit.

"Are you Socucius Ergalla? A guard told me I needed to fill some documents."

"Fill some... Ah, I remember now. Sorry to bother you, but it's a necessary formality, we need to store data of anyone arriving to Vvardenfell. Yours unfortunately was somehow lost, but I recall them mentioning your release."

Azirra flinched.

"Vvardenfell? As in, Morrowind? Wait, _release_?"

"Yes. Now, normally I wouldn't mind answering an avalanche of questions, but as you can see I'm very busy today. Captain Gravius also needs to speak with you and he will explain the details. Now, let's fill those documents." Breton grabbed a blank form, but hesitated while in the middle of giving it her. "You can read and write, yes?"

"Of course." Azirra spat, taking the form. _The nerve of some people, asking me that just because of my race..._ She scanned the sheet.

Name... Azirra, race... Khajiit, birthsign... Apprentice, but why would they need her birthsign? Questions about education and job history were more complicated and then came criminal history. Khajiit cringed. It wasn't her fault, it honestly wasn't, but...

"Er, mister Ergalla? I'm going to need one more page..."

* * *

Ted was dreaming. He was sure of it. Everything was blurry and, while he remembered falling asleep, he didn't recalled waking up, he just... stood there. So it was a dream. Then again, just a few moments ago he was convinced everything was a hallucination, so nothing was certain anymore. Perhaps he was a dream as well?

There's also this feeling of tranquility. You know what I'm talking about, right? That moment of perfect stillness, when no worry disrupts your peace. That alone usually happens in dreams and definitely not when you are a dragon for some reason. The setting was strange. He was suspended in midair above what appeared to be the island of Vvardenfell. _It seemes familiar... Ah, yes. That's how Meridia spoke to the Dragonborn in Skyrim. Battle with Umaril took place in the "heaven" as well, just like the vision of Pelinal_.

" _ **Welcome,**_ **Kiir** _ **. I must say, I am surprised to see you here.**_ "

Ted immediately turned around and blinked a few times at the sight of another Dovah, also standing among the clouds. He saw that dragon somewhere before, he was sure of it, even though he looked much different from those in Skyrim, not to mention bigger. Proportions were completely off - his neck, snout and limbs were longer, giving him an appearance similar to Peryite. Also, he was gold.

"Who are you?"

The other dragon only smiled.

" ** _I am your father._** "

"...That joke is so old it grew a beard."

This sentence seemed to surprise bigger drake.

" _ **Joke? I do not jest. You are my son, even if I didn't create you personally. Both your soul and body were made with my aura.**_ "

 _Were made? This is getting creepy. It is even more creepy, because it all might be real._

"Alright, timeout. Who are you?"

The dragon unfurled his wings and stood on his legs. Now Ted felt even smaller, as if he already wasn't in comparison to his companion.

" _ **Anyone else asking me that question would see what I do with those who dare to ridicule me. However, since you have come into existence only recently, I know your ignorance is sincere. I am Akatosh, father of all**_ **Dovahhe** _ **and god of time.**_ "

Ted surprisingly wasn't impressed. Perhaps it was caused by this overwhelming sensation of calm. Perhaps he had ran out of fucks to give. Possibly both.

 _Of course, the Avatar of Akatosh, the divine father of dragons. That's why he looked familiar. There is a god in my dream. Nothing strange here, moving along._

" ** _Now, my son, I know you must be confused, but we must hurry. My connection to your dreaming self, which is already an unexpected achievement, will not allow us for a long talk. I have only enough time to tell you the most important things._** "

"Wait, what do you mean "unexpected"?"

Akatosh scowled.

" ** _Do not interrupt me like that, youngling. I will not tolerate it. As for your question, it's unexpected since dragons scarcely truly sleep. When my children rest, they rarely let themselves to completely lose their consciousness in order to avoid any treachery. Because of this, I could not communicate with them by dreams, even if it didn't take so much power._** "

This caused an obvious question.

"Then why did you bother to contact me?"

" _ **...When Jyggalag stole a part of my essence during creation of Mundus, I knew one day it would be used in some way. I started to think his change made him forget about it, since he never acted on it, but finally Sheogorath made his move. He did the exact same thing I would do if I could, given the condition of**_ **dov** _ **\- used it to create new dragon. You.**_ "

Ted, despite all of this info dump, found one thing strange.

"I thought daedra had no power of creating life?" Good to know his geek priorities were still in order.

" _ **They don't. It baffles me how he achieved that. Young one, know this: Mad Star's actions are unpredictable. I do not know what he has planned for you or if he even planned anything, but you must be careful. Do not accept anything at face value, my son. Be wary of all who try to approach you. Including you, there are only five still living dragons. One is lost in time, the second imprisoned in Oblivion, the third trapped underground, and the fourth separated himself from the rest of the world on the**_ **Monahven** _ **in order to await the return of the first one. Only you remain truly free. Do not risk your freedom or life for insignificant causes. Too many of my children already died that way.**_ "

It was a good thing Ted's bullshitmeter was already broken.

"Why do you care? You said it yourself, you didn't make me."

" ** _I care for all my children, created by me or not. You may exist because of Sheogorath, but it doesn't change the fact your very essence was made with my own."_** The Avatar of Akatosh looked to the sky. ** _"We do not have much time. Listen well. I had not asked you of your name, because I know you don't have one. Your_ qalos _, your... presence is weak. It will stay that way until you give your_ Thu'um _direction. The Knowledge of_ Dovahzul _is natural to all_ dovahhe _, but without a name you can't unlock it's full potential. Choose your name wisely, for it will affect your entire life. Words and names are important, remember that._** "

The clouds around them started getting denser, enveloping both dragons. Ted could barely see the outline of God of Time.

" ** _Our meeting is over... I spent all of my strength. The rest is up to you, my son. I wish you good luck._** "

"Wait! What am I supposed to do now?"

Akatosh chuckled. His avatar already disappeared in the mist.

" _ **That is entirely up to you now. Though, if I may say so, when you wake up, I advise you to dodge.**_ "

* * *

It is a painful wake up call, being hit with a hammer in the face.

 _"RAAAAAARRRRGHH!"_

Somewhere in the depths of Oblivion, a certain daedric prince threw a bottle of brandy at the floor.

"Why didn't you DODGE?!"

* * *

Ted jumped backwards. It felt as if his brain tried to escape from his skull in every possible way, but it would be even worse if it wasn't for his scales. Perhaps it would only end with a bruise.

That is, a bruise for him and brutal death for whoever was responsible.

As it turns out, it would be a bit hard to achieve. Can't kill what is already dead.

"I thought that skeletons were supposed to be the weakest!" stated Ted while dodging a second swipe. With how small this room was, he didn't have much options in ways of defending himself, not to mention his lack of experience. "Ah, screw it!" shouted dragon, bending his neck.

Head-butting once more saved the day, scattering the enemy into hundreds of pieces. "Huh. So they can dish out some punishment, but can't take it. Right, not Skyrim, gotta remember that. I need to think."

Ted walked over to the open door leading deeper into the tomb, definitely opened by a skeleton. He had no desire to explore (first, this time it actually would mean taking a huge risk, and second, this dungeon wasn't exactly dragon friendly), but he couldn't leave it open while he got lost in thoughts. He ended up using the biggest thing in the hall to block the passage - himself. With the door secured by at least few hundred kilograms of a lizard, Ted finally sighed in relief and started to wonder about his situation.

 _Alright. I'm back in a so called "starting point". I can either continue telling myself it's all a dream of sort, or give in and accept I ended up in a game. Which is bullshit. It's not some second-rate fanfic._ He hesitated. _Oh god, any god at all, even daedric princes... If you hear me, don't let it be a fanfic! With how things were going, I'm sure I would be lynched! That, or I would suddenly end up shipped with someone for no reason whatsoever, which would be even worse._ He shook his head. _Bah! It doesn't matter. I guess for now I'll have to assume it is real, just in case it is, so I won't die because of overconfidence. It will take much more than a fictional god giving me a half-assed explanation and a small cut to convince me. That reminds me..._

Ted lifted his wing and examined the place of his injury, but all he found was a bit of dried blood and a small scratch underneath. The same applied to the other cut on his flank and bruises from his struggle with the door.

 _Quick healing? Don't mind if I do. I guess many dragons would drop dead without it, it's not like they can bind up their wounds. That aside, I wonder how the folks back home will react._

For a moment Ted entertained the idea of people making a big search for him. Pff, yeah. It's not like there was someone who would be terribly sad at his disappearance. It takes a special kind of social desperation to make a friend with the likes of Jerry.

 _Well, at least if that's real I finally got rid of the asshole once and for all. Good luck crossing the interdimensional barrier, Jerry!_

* * *

"Oh gods, deadra! Hide your children! Guards, guards!"

"Hey, wait! God dammit, I heard some assholes don't trust black people, but this is ridiculous!"

* * *

 _Now, let's see... If I'm really here, then most likely that dream was a real vision too. That talk actually explained some things, which normal dreams don't do. So, I have a dragon god of time on my side, simply because he thinks I'm his son... But as an aedra, all he can really do is twiddle his little claws and hope for the best for me, so he's pretty much useless. Also, by some miracle, Sheogorath broke the laws of this universe and created someone new_. Out of nowhere, understanding hit Ted like a dodgeball in a echoing gymnasium. Sheogorath didn't create someone new - Ted had already existed before. _He made a dragon body, but couldn't make soul, so instead he took mine and did... whatever a god does to make soul draconic and voila!_

 _...That's it, Sheo, you are no longer the best prince. Azura, rejoice!_

 _That clears up how and who. I would ask why, but that's pointless when it comes to Sheogorath. All that's left is where and when... I have no idea about either, except it's a southwestern Vvardenfell and probably not fourth era... Otherwise I would be breathing smoke and swimming in lava._

With those important questions more or less answered, Ted was left with the biggest one.

 _What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **As always, let's begin with the setting.**

 **The tomb in which our protagonist found refuge is called Samarys Ancestral Tomb. Since there is no one by that name in the game, it is very likely no one uses it anymore. It contains up to five undead, some ingredients, scrolls, potion and a really good ring. It is exactly north-west of Seyda Neen, a few steps away from the sea. It is of no importance besides that.**

 **Now, I know Divine/Daedra vision is nothing new, but why change it if it works so well, especially in this situation? Akatosh is the only character with the sole exception of Sheogorath who could give him good advice not asking for anything in return. It simply had to be done, simple as that.**

 **Yes, Azirra is a bit underwhelming at the moment, maybe even boring. That's kinda the point, from zero to hero and all that. I would like to point out she's not going to join Thieves Guild, in fact she prefers to avoid risk, which will bite her in the ass multiple times, if you consider what kind of mission she has ahead of her. How do you understand it, it's up to you.**

 **Next time - Ted learns how to fly without endangering himself every three seconds, eats his first meal in Morrowind and meets the future Nerevarine... for a moment. Expect the fourth chapter tomorrow.**


	4. You've got a cliff racer on your face

**EDIT: Now with edits made by my great beta reader, DeathLord-92.**

 **Such a short time between two chapters and yet I have a new review. How nice.**

 ** _Guest_ \- True, Morrowind deserves more spotlight. I deeply regret the fact there's no conflict between factions in Oblivion and Skyrim, which allows you to see almost everything the game has when it comes to quests in one playthrough. If I'll ever get to writing a story with Ted in Skyrim after I'm done with Morrowind and Oblivion, I'll be very annoyed if the last story will get the most recognition.**

 **Let's get started.**

* * *

"No, I do not know why were you sent here and your sentence was cancelled, however His Majesty Emperor Uriel Septim VII was the one who you can thank for this. He personally requested your release. As a captain of the Legion, I need nothing else."

Azirra's jaw dropped. It's not often that your life sentence is pardoned by the supreme ruler of Tamriel.

 _How in the world?! Why would he care? If he found out I was innocent, why would he release me here and not in Cyrodill?_

"What I do know however is that there is a package that came with you. According to my orders, your sole condition of royal pardon is to deliver it."

 _Ah, here comes the catch. I don't know the details, but it obviously can't be easy if he picked up someone disposable for the task_. As much as it hurt her pride to admit it, that's exactly what she was - disposable. She had no real skill besides some affinity for magic, but that was mostly thanks to her birthsign and her own curiosity about the local bookstore in her hometown, since she had no real education besides basic alchemy.

Thankfully, the delivery job in her opinion required only two healthy legs and the expository dump could wait a few chapters.

"Who has to get it?"

"A man named Caius Cosades. All I know about him is that he lives in Balmora. You can either travel there by foot with the aid of signposts or take a silt strider."

"...Take a what now?"

Captain Gravius sighed.

"Silt strider. It's a giant flea. Locals use it for travel."

"...They ride on bugs."

"Yes. They ride on bugs."

It's official. Sheogorath was responsible for the creation of either this land or those people.

"Here's the package. As part of my orders you are also going to receive money for most immediate expenses. After removing the tax it amounts to eighty seven drakes."

"Drakes?"

"Oh, sorry. I meant septims. For some reason locals can't stand that name. They started calling imperial currency 'drakes' since there's the imperial dragon on one side. Is there anything else?"

"Only one thing: are there any places of interest in this town?"

"Not really. Seyda Neen is a small, quiet place. The only other building of any importance is Arrille's Tradehouse."

"Ah, alright. Thank you, sir. I'll be on my way."

And just like that, Azirra left the office with only a set of poor quality clothes, but free as a bird... or as free as someone with only eighty seven septims to their name can be.

 _What to do, what to do... It won't keep me fed for very long. The silt strider will reduce my resources even more, I'm certainly not going to risk getting mugged on the road. I have to earn more money and then take care of that task. I suppose I don't have much say in this. The sooner I do it, the better._

Azirra nodded and walked towards Arrille's Tradehouse, standing out among other buildings for being the only one with the exception of Census and Excise Office and the lighthouse that had more than one story.

 _But first, breakfast. I'm starving._

* * *

 _A name is important, that's true... Even if I were to ignore what Akatosh said, I can't just meet someone and go 'Hi, I'm Ted'. It doesn't fit a flying death machine. Except I'm not exactly a death machine yet... or flying. But what had Akatosh meant by saying my name will affect my life? He also mentioned I need it to direct my Thu'um..._

 _Let's see... First we have Al Du In. 'Destroy devour master'. Fitting. Then there's Paar Thur Nax, 'ambition overlord cruelty'. Yeah, doesn't make sense, he's anything but that._

 _...How do I know what all of that means? I looked up those names once, but I certainly had not learned them._

...

Ted looked up, as if directing his next words to the sky despite his underground location.

"Sheogorath... I blame you for all of this. You better hope we will never meet face to face, daedric prince or not."

It was then that his stomach decided to remind the world of its existence. Ted winced. Alright. That much he could understand. _This handsome drake needs some_ _grub_. Ted made his decision and crawled over to the stairs - architectural constructions designed for humanoids' use.

It was going to be a wearisome experience.

* * *

After many curses in multiple languages, the human turned dragon finally squeezed through the entrance, this time without any damage.

" _Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!_ "

Ted immediately shut his jaws.

 _What the hell? I wanted to say that in English!_

Whatever he wanted to speak next was quickly forgotten - right ahead was a coast and only now Ted realized the only thing he knew about his new body was the proper name of the species. In a few seconds he arrived at the edge and looked upon the unnaturally undisturbed surface of the sea. His reflection stared back.

He wasn't a Revered Dragon and that in itself was a relief - those were as ugly as dragons can get, even if you include Durnehviir. His golden scales and pale underbelly left no doubt about his species.

"So, an Elder Dragon, huh? That puts me in the middle of the hierarchy, I think. Unless we take this purple splotch as a reason to count me as a unique type."

Indeed, scales above his green, glowing eyes were not golden, brown or anything in between, but purple of all possible colors, which clashed terribly with the rest of his body. This discoloration covered the top of his head and horns. It kind of looked as if someone poured out a bit of paint on him.

The dragon decided to ignore this oddity for the time being and instead turned around, hoping to spot something edible in his surroundings. Food was closer than he expected.

"Hello there!" he said with a smile, observing a fish which foolishly tried to bite off his tail, even after so many hours. Slaughterfishes were known for their stubbornness, but not for intelligence.

"Now, how to cook you..." started Ted, but then stopped. "Ugh, I don't have a way to do that. I suppose eating things raw will have to do until I find dragon-sized cooking equipment." He shrugged. "Come to daddy!"

With those words Ted teared most of the fish away from his tail (stubborn monstrosity refused to let go and ended up severed in two), tossed it into the air and let it fall into his open mouth. Sad part? He was still hungry.

 _Eating is going to be problematic_ , thought Ted. _Fishing won't do and there aren't that many big creatures in Vvardenfell. Guars, alits, bigger kwama... I think that's it. Even worse, I won't catch anything as long as I'm grounded._

Ted sighed.

 _I'm going to regret this,_ he thought, unfurling his wings.

* * *

Ted was, without any doubt, the most pathetic dragon of all times.

Getting a lift? No problem. Gliding? Easy. Turning? It was tricky, but eventually our hero figured out his tail served some purpose during flight. Landing?

Gods, landing.

"No, no, no, NO!" ***THUD***

It doesn't matter how hard he tried, he always ended up kissing the ground. Also, as if his lack of skill wasn't terrible enough, for some unknown reason, powerful gusts of wind sooner or later disturbed his fragile balance in midair. In all honesty, it was to be expected - with so few trees in this land it was a miracle the air currents were gentle enough to fly at all.

"Alright." Ted said to himself. "One last time. I must remember to not fly too high." With one strong flap he was back in the sky.

Dragon tilted his wing slightly, increasing his altitude. Once he found himself high enough, he relaxed and glided towards the mountains. From his previous flights he knew that, if he were flying in the opposite direction, he would see a lighthouse in the distance (it was probably the one in Seyda Neen). He decided against turning his head - this kind of movement would end badly.

It was still beyond him how exactly was a massive lizard capable of flight, but he decided it was pointless to wonder about that - more likely than not the answer was 'magic'. Flying wasn't about how much energy he put into flapping or about finding a good air current. It was about the position of the body. Even the smallest change of posture could alter his speed and direction, so precision was necessary. Slowly, but surely, Ted was learning what movements he couldn't afford.

Good advice: if you ever find yourself turned into a dragon, never attempt to tuck in one wing while keeping the other fully open. That makes you spin out of control… if you are lucky. If you aren't lucky, well... let's just say you will look extremely stupid. Dragons are an amusing sight when they are flying backwards.

Ted successfully reached the ridge of the mountain range and passed it. That, however, was as far as he was going to get in this flight - from the opposite side raised a cliff racer, which apparently came up with the same idea.

Flying lizard crushed into tamrielic version of pterodactyl. Normally it would end badly only for the latter - just like only the cyclist ends up in the hospital after a collision with the car. Unfortunately, the cliff racer hit Ted right in the snout.

"IT'S EATING MY FACE!"

While Ted gained some new, draconic instincts with his new body, he still had many that belong to the humans. Attempting to remove with hands whatever sticked to his face was sadly one of them. His subconscious move pulled his wings close to the torso. The proper name for this action is called "diving".

Which is _not_ a good maneuver to do when the ground isn't that far.

 ***THUD***

The only creature more miserable than Ted at this precise moment was cliff racer, now splattered on the rocks, and an alit, which a few seconds earlier decided the future point of impact was a great place for a nap.

At least now Ted knew just what to eat.

* * *

"I deeply regret my life choices!" howled Ted, withholding an urge to puke.

At first he was hesitant to feast upon the thing. He was used to meat that in the last days spent more time in the freezer than breathing. Even preparing the food would be challenging, but he had to eat it raw. Convincing himself he was unlikely to find KFC out there and that he should fill his stomach at any price took him longer than the consumption itself - as soon as he tasted blood, everything went red.

Now though, when he came to his senses and noticed how badly he mutilated the corpse, he almost threw up his entire meal. For Christ's sake, the entire head was missing! Skull and all!

He wasn't sure whether he should be thankful or horrified about the primal part taking control for the time of his feeding.

"Ugh. At least I'm not so hungry anymore."

 _Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't... Dammit!_

"I think I'm going to be sick."

With no other option left, Ted decided to take it easy and give his guts time to calm down.

 _Distraction, distraction... Where is a distraction when you need one? Ah, got it! I must pick a name... and my main objective. According to Akatosh they should be connected. But why? Does the name somehow empower certain traits or skills? I guess so. It sure fits Alduin to have 'master' in the name. And now, when I think about it, Paarthurnax was said to be cruel and ambitious before he felt remorse and decided to change his ways. Wasn't easy for him to do so too. Even Durnehviir's name fits perfectly. Yes, there must be a connection._

 _Looks like I need to find some purpose. Dragon I may be, but it's not going to be something about domination or destruction, thank you very much. I'll leave it to Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon. But what else could a dragon do...? Let's try different approach. My objective will affect my name, my name will affect my Thu'um. What kind of Thu'um do I want?_

An answer to that question was simple enough.

 _I want to have a great choice of shouts. I don't need mastery in any of them, just a wide selection. That's why the Last Dragonborn wins in the end... that and because they have a shit ton of healing potions. Well, maybe it would be nice to have a bit more advantage at more hilarious shouts. I'm not going to give up good old Fus Ro Dah._

 _There, that's my preferences. If this is what I would like to do with my Thu'um, what kind of career should I choose? ...Fuck it, I don't know. No dragon would like to have no field of expertise._

Ted frowned. He had trouble picking what to eat for breakfast each morning and now he had to pick the purpose of his life. Fun.

Just like that, it dawned on him. His frown slowly turned upside down. _Yes, that makes sense! In fact, this is perfect! Who said the name has to describe everything, if it can simply reflect the most important talent? A dragon that learns many shouts just for the sake of variety and curiosity... Yep, that's me. Now all I need to do is find three words that fit the best._

 _...I've got nothing. Oh well. I'm sure something will come up. I speak Dovahzul even when I don't mean to and Mr Let's-Give-My-Children-A-Permit-To-Enslave-Anything-They-Wish-To said the understanding of dragon language is natural to all of them._

With his long mental monologue over, Ted decided it was about time to find a good place to rest. He wasn't planning on returning to the tomb, he wasn't a masochist.

"I'll need some decent altitude to spot something suitable. If I won't, I'll have to fly all the way to one of those big mountains to the north." muttered Ted to himself, taking to the air and soaring south.

Five minutes later the grumpy dragon decided he must take the longer trip - in this area there simply wasn't any cave not placed right next to the road and more likely than not most of them were filled with thugs.

"Of course, just my luck."

"...aaaaAAAAARRRRRRGGG...!"

Ted froze, at least as much as it was possible while flying. _What the hell? It sounds as if it's coming from..._

A green blur flied past him, almost startling him into making a maneuver that would surely end with him on the ground and a cracked skull. The dragon followed the falling object with his eyes. It was, no doubt about it, a wizard.

"...GGAAAAAAAOOOOOOoooaaaaa...!"

 ***THUD***

"Ouch. That must have hurt."

It was then that Ted realized what the presence of this particular wizard meant for him.

 _He appears only when a Nerevarine approaches the place of his impact! There's a hero nearby!_

Ted squinted his eyes and smiled. Indeed, there was a small dot right next to the gory mess which a few seconds earlier was Tarhiel, the inventor of the Scroll of Icarian Flight. He couldn't be sure due to distance, but it seemed the mighty future hero of Morrowind, unlike himself, could not keep their lunch after such gruesome sight. Can't really blame them.

 _This is going to be interesting. I suppose this kind of entertainment will have to do without TV around_ , thought Ted while descending.

* * *

Blood. So much blood. Oh, and vomit too.

All Azirra wanted to do was go to the swamp and gather some ingredients. She wasn't very good at alchemy, but she knew a thing or two. One way or another, she had to get rid of all those mushrooms she picked up. She hated mushrooms and mushrooms hated her - such is fate of those cursed with an allergy to the spores. But nooo, it wasn't enough for the Divines to mock her with sneezing, she also had to end up covered in blood because it started raining mer.

It got worse. Something very heavy hit the ground behind her. The Khajiit turned around and almost died on the spot from shock alone.

"Sup. Beautiful weather, isn't it? Except for the Bosmer wizards. I could do without those."

* * *

Whatever the living legend said, it definitely wasn't in any language known to Ted. In fact, he would go as far as to claim she - he took a quick peek at the chest just to make sure he guessed right - spoke the same language unfortunate wizard did, Screamish.

Next part was a bit of a surprise to dragon - the Nerevarine pointed a shaking finger in his direction and, still screaming, shot a small lightning at his snout. It stung a bit, but did nothing else. At this sight, the Khajiit's screams got even louder.

"Can you please stop all this noise?" asked Ted. "I don't have ears and yet you still make me wish I could tear them off."

In response, the savior of land lifted her arms above her head and ran away into the swamp, still screeching like a banshee. Soon she disappeared in the bushes. Ted blinked.

"Nah. This can't be the Nerevarine. This whole land would be screwed." And with those words Ted took to the sky.

* * *

 _Dragon. There are dragons in Morrowind._

Azirra was making her way through the swamp as if it was a straight road of highest quality.

 _I thought they were a fairytale!_

She jumped into a small pond on her way, too scared to waste time on walking around. Even Argonians would be impressed by her speed in the unfriendly environment.

 _Why, why, why, why..._

She tripped and ended up with a mouthful of sand. After shakily standing up, Azirra noticed there was a cold mass lying behind her.

"Another corpse?! What's wrong with this place?!"

Ground rushed towards her head and everything went dark.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Ah, Tarhiel... nothing screams "The end of the world" as much as wizards falling from the sky. People who played Morrowind and turned left instead of right on the first crossroad surely know his location, but just in case we have readers less prone to wandering or buing games that have over ten years: this unfortunate soul can be met in the swamp north of tutorial town of Seyda Neen. There's nothing interesting about him besides the spectacular way he smacks into the ground, Scrolls of Icarian Flight and famous pointy Colovian Fur Helm, known also as Nipple Hat.**

 **As you can see, Azirra just found the body of Processus Vitellius, thus starting the quest "Death of a Taxman". Also, notice Azirra didn't robbed the Office like most of us did as part of the tutorial. I mean, seriously, what kind of person would give the guards reason to put them behind the bars right in the middle of acquiring an official pardon? Please, don't answer 'Khajiit', that's racist.**

 **I think in the next chapters I'll focus more on Azirra and develop her character. There's simply not much going on with Ted at the moment - the phase of stumbling around comes to an end, however it's still not time for him to interact with other characters. Perhaps I'll change it, I have an idea, but we will see.**


	5. Baptism of fire

**Sorry about the long wait. First there were Christmas, at the end were university exams (kinda still are, but shhh! Don't question my life choices if you get profit from them) and in between I was learning how to draw manga. I'm afraid I have the problem of Leonardo da Vinci - many interests and quite a lot of talent, but as a result I hardly get anything done on time and can't focus on one thing for long. Looks like writing on shedule just isn't my thing. Oh well.**

 **Another news, now I have a beta reader valiantly protecting the quality of this fanfiction. Big thanks to DeathLord-92. All chapters except for the previous one are already edited. And now it's reviews time.**

 ** _Guest_ \- Oh ho, not quite. That would be once two worlds will collide and Ted and Azirra will have a true conversation. But yes, story is getting more complicated. This chapter is the last part of the 'warm up', after that Nerevarine will truly begin her adventure with her arrival to Balmora.**

 ** _The nerd who likes digimon_ \- First of all, thanks for not one, not two, but three reviews. Now for all your concerns, starting from the beginning. Thank you, I appreciate your compliment. Yeaaah, I know, I'm bad with the usage of 'the', my biggest problem right next to tenses. Hopefully with my new beta reader aiding me that will no longer be a problem. Yes, the player will be a mage, although her path of advancement will be different from the one in the game, a bit more... let's say dramatic and unexpected. Nerevarine, the word is Nerevarine. Basically, Nerevarine is a reincarnation of ancient Dunmer warrior and saint, Lord Nerevar Indoril. Just like the protagonist of Skyrim is the Dragonborn and the one in Oblivion is the Hero of Kvatch, the player character in Morrowind is called Nerevarine. For now that's all you need to know about the subject, it will be explained in the story in detail. Alright, thanks, I'll keep in mind Morrowind's fauna needs more explanations, it _is_ quite different from the rest of the Tamriel. As for the holiday specials, well, that's not really my thing. I believe a holiday special should be just that, special. Unless I have a really good idea, I won't write such chapters. Besides, it's way too early for those - the story is just beginning and I never was a fan of big time jumps.**

 **With that said, dig in!**

* * *

The stench of rotting flesh was the first thing that greeted Azirra after reclaiming consciousness. As sad as it sounds, it wasn't the worst way she's ever woke up.

She changed her mind as soon as she noticed a dead body right next to her and recalled just how she ended up here. This time her silent panic attack was very short, since it appeared she wasn't in any immediate danger.

"Bloody dragons..." muttered Khajiit. "I really hope it's just those mushrooms I found. Vvardenfell is strange enough."

After she managed to convince herself that the dragon was a hallucination (she tried the same for the part about the falling mage, but she still had some of his blood on her...), Azirra focused her attention on the dead man.

He was an Imperial, probably in his forties. The set of clothes he wore was of better quality than hers, but they had become worthless due to amount of blood covering them. Azirra wasn't a healer, but she did figured out a deep wound in his chest wasn't caused by a wildlife. This man was murdered, probably just a few days earlier, judging by the stink.

She took a deep breath through her mouth and walked over to the corpse to search through his pockets. She might have been a bit unaccustomed to this kind of thing (one of the perks of living in Kvatch for many years), but someone who was poor their entire life learns to accept someone else's loss as their gain. That's just how the world works.

Surprisingly enough, the supposed victim of a bandit still had money with them. And not just a few coins, but two hundred septims! Azirra frowned. It wasn't a robbery, that much was clear.

The identity of the man had not remained unknown for long. In another pocket she found a tax record of Seyda Neen with the name of an official - Processus Vitellius.

 _A taxman_ , she thought. Few professions were despised as much as this one. Azirra wondered if anyone even knew he disappeared.

* * *

To keep, or not to keep - that is the question.

Azirra, just like most people, liked the concept of a nice number of septims falling into her hands without any strings attached. That, however, was the problem - she knew dead money rarely came up without any complications. If she were to keep the collected taxes, with her luck it would surely come up later in the future to bite her in the ass. Were two hundred septims worth it?

No, she decided once she entered the village. They weren't. Not after she just got out of prison.

"Captain Gravius?" started Azirra entering the office. The legionary looked at her above the stack of papers he was filling.

"Yes? I believe I explained everything there was to explain few hours ago. Is there something else?"

"Kind of. You see, I was just collecting ingredients for a potion in the swamps... and I found the body of a taxman. He still had his documents."

Gravius frowned, but he had shown no surprise at her words.

"I pretty much expected this to happen, no one saw a trace of him for the last two days." Legionary shook his head. "I'll have to send some of my men for the body. Where exactly should they search?"

"It's not well hidden, to be honest. An edge of a bigger island, right next to a boulder."

"Very well. Speak about this to Socucius Ergella, his superior. You already met him."

"I see. Thank you."

Azirra left through the second door and entered the main building of the office. Thanks to her amazing determination and ability to ignore anything unimportant to her current main objective, she managed to pass through the unguarded room full of shiny things without taking anything. To be honest, it was a torture - it's one thing for a Khajiit to do so once, but to return later and find all those things still in place, without anyone even checking if everything is in the right place... That's just cruel.

As it turns out, Ergalla's pile of paperwork had not decreased in her absence. In fact, it might have even grown a bit. She knocked on the frame of the door to avoid startling him as much as the first time, but the result was similar.

"What is it?!"

"Just came in to inform you I found your taxman. Someone stabbed him and left the body in the swamp."

Official immediately calmed down, which, however, didn't mean he was happy.

"I... I see. I shouldn't really be surprised... Me and Thavere Vedrano were the only ones in the town who liked him, not to mention his job made him a target for any outlaws in the area. After he went missing, it was clear something terrible had happened." Muttered Ergalla and gave Azirra a serious look. "So, Vitellius was killed and robbed in the swamps?"

"Not exactly. He was indeed killed there, because I hadn't noticed any trails of dragging, but he still had the collected taxes." Azirra pulled out a small pouch and placed it on the desk. Much to her annoyance, he seemed flabbergasted. Was it really so strange, the sight of a Khajiit returning money to the authorities?

"He wasn't robbed? Strange." Oh. That was the reason of his expression. Never mind, Ergalla was a good guy in her book. Perhaps she was a bit oversensitive. "If it wasn't the work of bandits, then it must have been someone from the town. There's a murderer on the loose..." Official took the pouch and put it away in one of the drawers of the desk. "You know, Miss..."

"Azirra." Nice or not, he definitely had a problem with remembering names.

"Yes, Miss Azirra... I have a proposition for you. The death of Processus, due to him being a government employee, will be surely soon examined by Sellus Gravius and his men, but I'm afraid they will never find the murderer. You see, locals don't like legionaries. Uniform makes them reluctant to share rumors. You, on the other hand, are someone with no duties and known loyalties. Just another traveller."

"You want me to... conduct an investigation?" Wow, just wow. Prisoner in the morning, investigator in the evening. Looks like the gods had finally gotten around to making up for years of bad luck.

"Indeed. Processus is... was a friend of mine. I really shouldn't do this, since it's not exactly legal..." Ergalla's eyes wandered over to the soldier standing next to the door. He definitely had a lot of experience in guard duty - not every newbie can sleep and stand straight at attention at the same time. "...But no one is going to find out if Processus' last payment, which he was about to receive today, would become a reward for the person who finds his murderer. He surely wouldn't mind. I'll also add a little bonus from my own pocket. You don't have to apprehend the criminal, just find out proof and deliver it to Captain Gravius. What do you say?"

Azirra considered the pros and cons. The only thing she was likely to lose was time, but, despite her eagerness to deliver the package to Balmora in reasonable time, she wasn't in too much of a hurry. There was also the possibility of danger, but all of Morrowind was dangerous for a lone Khajiit, so nothing new there. The potential gain far exceeded the risks.

"I suppose I can at least try. We have a deal."

"Splendid. Perhaps you should talk to Processus' girlfriend first. She lives in the lighthouse. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to my work."

* * *

Her talk with Thavere Vedrano was a somber one.

The Dunmer woman was already worried because of Processus' long absence. It was a shame Azirra hadn't included the loss of a relatively good mood among the cons before she made the deal. It took her at least a half hour to calm Thavere down.

"I just don't understand why anyone would hurt him! He was the calmest person I ever knew!"

Thavere also had the tendency to stray from the subject.

"I have no doubt. Did he have any enemies? Was he arguing with anyone recently?"

"Enemies? The townspeople didn't like him, but it never got more serious than the usual aversion of imperial representatives. And yes, he was arguing with some people a few days ago. It was normal, it always happened when he came to gather taxes. Fargoth and that Argonian, Fine-Mouth, kept telling the taxes were too high. Foryn Gilnith even had audacity to claim that Processus was skimming off the top for himself! Uncouth brute."

Azirra realized Vedrano wasn't going to be of any more help, not in this state. Perhaps what she learned would be enough. She had had enough of her shrill voice, too.

"Interesting. I'll look into this. I believe you should rest, Miss Vedrano. You were of great help." _NOT._

Turns out Thavere actually had something useful for her. Shame she decided to say so at the very end.

"Oh, one more thing! Please, if you find it, can you bring me back his ring? I gave it to him a few months ago and he had always worn it since. At least I would have something to remember him by."

"I... of course."

Azirra left the lighthouse.

There was no ring on the body, she realized. She was sure of it. It appears the murderer DID steal something. But why, if not for profit?

That gave her a clue, not a great one, but it was good enough. Still, not much to go on... Hold on, hadn't she found a tax record on the body? Azirra pulled out the list.

" _Processus Vitellius_

 _Seyda Neen Census and Excise Office_

 _Arrille - 450 drakes - PAID_

 _Draren Thiralas - 200 drakes - PAID_

 _Eldafire - 130 drakes_

 _Erene Llenim - 78 drakes - PAID_

 _Fargoth - 111 drakes_

 _Fine-Mouth - 54 drakes_

 _Foryn Gilnith - 225 drakes_

 _Indrele Rathryon - 127 drakes - PAID_

 _Terurise Grivayne - 98 drakes -PAID_

 _Thavere Vedrano - 134 drakes - PAID_

 _Vodunius Nuccius - 87 drakes_ "

"Huh." _So the people who had been arguing with the taxman still hadn't paid their taxes._ Foryn Gilnith's debt was much bigger than the others. Azirra had an idea of who she should talk to next.

* * *

"Crito, I'm not a scholar! I'm a battlemage! I don't analyze things, I burn them!"

"Bah! I don't care, Granius! You are the only one in the group who reads them books. So tell me, is this thingie worth anything?"

"How should I know? Just take it to the city and check prices the vendors prices."

"Moron! I must know how much is it worth! If it's rare, it might get us a great deal of gold. If you don't know, then I'll have to take it to a collector."

 _All of them would say it was worthless, even if it was not, because either they didn't know or because they didn't want to pay too much. That's how collectors buy things_. Ted just shook his head. _Bandits. Bloody idiots_.

After a short flight, our hero managed to find a good place to call a temporary home - a big mountain close to Balmora (but not too close). Yes, it was the same mountain over Fort Moonmoth. The one with Dwemer ruins on the top. He couldn't remember the name, but it was definitely something that sounded like a cat choking on a mouse. All Dwemer cities had such odd names.

The place was perfect. Close enough to civilization for him, but not too close for civilization to him. If there's one thing Paarthurnax was right about, it was that dragons like mountains. There's just something special about looking at the world from the very top, laughing at all insignificant dots called NPCs.

There were only two things Ted disliked about the location - there was an already mentioned imperial fort at the bottom of the mountain and a smuggler den in the ruins. Legionaries weren't a problem - how often did guards look up in search of enemies? Almost never, that's why those damned cliff racers were so common. Smugglers, on the other hand... If he could, he would collapse the entry to the underground, thus saving potential travellers from bandits and slightly increasing an average IQ level of citizens of Morrowind. Sadly, such feat was still impossible to him, not to mention this place was important to Nerevarine's quest. If Falling Wizard's presence was any indicator, it was this particular year that the Nerevar reborn arrived to Vvardenfell, even if that Khajiit wasn't the hero himself.

The point is, how stupid must a bandit be to not notice a giant lizard hanging in the air right above you?

"No, I told you many times already! Reman Cyrodiil ISN'T the greatest hero of Tamriel!"

"Face it, Crito, Gaiden Shinji is overrated!"

"Argh! I can't believe I have to work with such idiots! Granius, if you will open any of your fancy books about combat, you will find Shinji's name on one of the first twenty pages!"

"So? Most books for some strange reason aren't even that long!"

 _Okay, now they argue about great heroes. That's enough._

"Rargh!" exclaimed Ted, slamming into the ground in front of the smugglers. Both Imperials gave him their full attention. "You are both wrong! The greatest hero of all times is Pelinal Whitestrake! For the love of whatever god you believe in, he was a time travelling robot who was sent to the Merethic Era to deep-six an evil sorcerer demigod, you cannot become more awesome than that!"

Both mortals took up defensive positions.

"But Reman created an empire!"

"So? Empires rise and fall. Which Empire do we have? The third? Fourth? I lost count."

"Shinji built an arena in the Imperial City. His accomplishment stands strong and proud to this day!"

"Don't make me laugh! The very fact you stand here today and argue with me instead of working in the mines of Cyrodiil for the elves is a result of Pelinal's fight! There's only one thing more epic than his battle against Umaril."

Both bandits looked at each other with eyes filled with curiosity.

"What would that be?" Asked the chief, Crito.

"The story in which Pelinal, Reman and Shinji used the Elder Scrolls to travel through the ages to the time of Planemeld in order to kick Molag's ass."

 _And that's how fanfiction was created in Tamriel_ , thought Ted with a smile.

...

Now he only needed to make it a reality.

"Raaargh!" exclaimed Ted, slamming into the ground in front of the smugglers. Both Imperials gave him their full atten...

"Dragon!"

"Kill it!"

"Oh come on!"

An older Imperial, Granius, threw a small fireball at his chest. To be honest, Ted didn't even flinched. There wasn't much mana behind that spell, touching a heated pan in his human form was more painful.

"Bandit 1 uses the Fireball, Dragon weathers the blow" stated calmly the future winner of the confrontation.

The other bandit smacked his companion on the head.

"Idiot! It's a dragon, they're not afraid of fire!"

Granius started to shake so badly he almost lost his cuirass, which was a great achievement in itself.

"I'm out of here!"

"Come back here, coward!" screamed Crito after the battle mage, who was already jumping into the relatively safe depths of Arkngthand. The bandit chief glared at the Dragon Troll.

"I hope you ate a tasty meal, dragon. It was your last. Tonight, YOU will be the meal to my band!"

"Geez, are you even sure you are an Imperial? You sound just like a Nord or maybe even an Orc."

"It's all lies! My dad was an Imperial merchant! RAAAAAA!"

 _Yep, definitely an Orc_ , thought Ted, getting his head out of the reach of the man's axe. Sadly, Crito was in a state in which he no longer cared where his weapon would strike, as long as it would be the enemy.

What transpired after that caused a great shame and discomfort to Ted every time he recalled this event in the future. For a second time he saw the world through the red glasses of murder and, well...

Let's just say it was going to be painful to get rid of the bandit's cuirass once Ted would have to go to the toilet.

* * *

This is the place. Foryn's house.

Perhaps 'house' was a generous term. The shack was losing terribly against weather and time. It was strange that someone with such poor living conditions had to pay taxes exceeding two hundred septims. Arrille, the richest person in town, had to pay only twice as much.

She knocked.

"Come in, it's open."

The inside wasn't much better than the outside. A hammock, small table, and some sacks with food could be found. No real floor, just well-trodden soil. Add the poorly dressed, annoyed Dunmer in the middle of it all and the picture is complete.

"Who are you? I haven't seen you before."

Fortunately Azirra came up with a good excuse before entering. It was also time to channel her inner Khajiit-speak. She had no idea why most of her kind spoke in third person, and in her opinion it always made them sound foolish, but now it would be helpful.

"This one is Azirra, a friend of Thavere Vedrano. Thavere asked Azirra to help her search for Processus Vitellius. Azirra was told you two have spoken recently. Do you know where he is?"

His look of slight annoyance (which, now that she thinks about it, was a default expression for most Dunmer) yielded to perplexity and then to a sneer. Foryn crossed his arms.

"I think you already know the answer to that question, Khajiit. Ask openly or not at all."

 _...Am I really so easy to read? Well, here goes nothing._

"Do you know anything about his death?"

"You're damn right I did that fetcher in, and a good thing too!" Proclaimed Foryn with pride. Azirra just gaped. _Is he for real?_ "That thief was overcharging us all on our taxes and keeping the difference for himself. Ask anyone and they will confirm that bastard was showing off his wealth every time he could, just to mock us! All those from the Office are the same."

"Are... Are you mad?!" Azirra completely neglected further acting. "You killed a man just because he was a prick?!"

"I killed him because he was a prick, N'wah and a thief. I had no doubts of what I wanted to do when he took an evening stroll through the swamp. I had no need for his ill-begotten gold, so I left it with him." Answered Foryn without remorse, although the smirk was now gone from his face.

"And what about Thavere? She cried a river when I told her what happened!"

This managed to make Gilnith wince.

"She wasn't to blame in all of this..." muttered Dunmer, finally appearing slightly regretful. "I knew it would cause her pain, but the opportunity was too great. Believe me, in the end he would make her miserable anyway." Foryn pulled out something from his pocket. "I have his ring, I think she gave it to him. I didn't know how, but I knew I had to somehow give it back to her, I couldn't just leave it on the body... She deserves to at least have it back..." His face hardened and he squinted his eyes. Azirra took a step back. "So, how many people are you going to tell it? Just Vedrano... or perhaps also the guards?"

Azirra took a deep breath and smiled broadly.

"Not at all. I completely understand."

"I... see..." Nope. He didn't fell for it.

It's interesting how fast a single object can advance to the very top of the list of most important things in your life. For some it's a pet. Most of the time, it's a very special person. Others have a worthless piece of paper upon which their idol wrote their signature.

As for Foryn and Azirra... at this specific moment said object happened to lie on the nearby table. The latter wanted to get away from it and former to stick it into his 'guests' body.

...Why are you looking at me like that? I'm sure you wouldn't enjoy being stabbed with a sharp fork either. Azirra definitely didn't.

The Khajiit yelped and took a step back, holding her bleeding left hand. The Dunmer decided to not give her a chance of retaliation and lunged towards her. There was only one thing she could do being cornered like this.

As soon as her palms rested on Foryn's face, he screamed like your average character in a horror movie and fell to the floor due to incredible pain. The skin was peeling off his face, revealing muscles beneath, which already started to fuse with the skull, while the eyeballs...

Oh, wait, that's Quirrell, not Foryn.

"Really? Fire Bite spell? Just, really?" Foryn asked. Even with Azirra's hands still covering his face she was sure he only raised one eyebrow and nothing besides that has changed. He even still had the freaking eyebrows to raise, for gods' sake!

"...How? This was always enough in bar fights." questioned Azirra trying to hold onto her courage. This wouldn't be easy - the only close distance destruction spell she ever bothered to learn was a dud.

"You do realize we Dunmers have a strong resistance to fire, right? Comes with living on a volcanic island and getting your race blessed by Tribunal."

 _Daedra shit._

"Then I guess it's time for my other bar fight trick."

Out came the claws and then shit hit the fan.

* * *

It is a miserable experience for most sentient beings, to come to their senses surrounded by blood and human body parts. It can only get worse on one condition - if the missing parts are in your stomach.

"...Oh God..."

Looks like they're going to leave it soon enough.

 ***disgusting sounds of organic nature***

We shall skip the inner monologue inside Ted's head. At this point it consisted mostly of the word "NO" repeated over and over again. Honestly, that's perfectly normal.

In Ted's opinion, some things just shouldn't be done, no matter if it's in real life, a game, or even a dream. Dropping a sex bomb on your own mother. Introducing an eight year olds to drugs. Eating someone... in a nonsensual way, at least. So, whether a hallucination or reality, what just happened was a solid blow to our protagonist's psyche. Still, once he was done vomiting human meat, he still could at least find some solace in the fact it wasn't his conscious decision... That sadly only meant he now had to be wary of losing himself in battle.

So far Ted ended up in three fights. In the first one he panicked as soon as he received a paper cut and fled. In the second he kept a cool head (and ended the battle with it), but only because his opponent was a one-hit skeleton, and they didn't really pose much danger (as long as it's a world made by Bethesda and not Toby Fox). In the last fight, he tore apart his enemy and ate most of his body in a primal rage. As you can see, his track record wasn't good. Would the same happen next time he was forced to defend himself? Mind you, he had no intention of starting a fight he couldn't finish or for a stupid reason... No, an attempt to create fanfiction in Tamriel was a really good reason, shut up. After all, some things are just bound to make people fight you - screaming you are a Christian in front of ISIS terrorists, walking into a bad neighborhood at third in the morning, having an ugly face. Being a dragon of all things is also on that list. Someone was going to attack him sooner or later. For now he could only pray this butchering was a one time thing.

Finally, Ted was able to calm himself down. The gross aftertaste of vomit was still present though. A trip to the river to take a drink was in order.

"Ugh. That was officially the most disgusting experience of my whole life." concluded Ted. As an afterthought he added, "Looks like the descriptions were right. Human meat does taste like sweeter beef... oh no, why have I said that, here comes a second wave...!"

 ***THUD***

In all honestly, once Ted saw what exactly he spitted out, he was actually wishing it was a bandit's head for example. Instead, in the puddle of vomit, lied a small cube shaped metal object, now slightly bended and sizzling from stomach acid of the only creature that could eat a man whole and still digest his armor. The dragon's eyes widened in realization at what exactly he had damaged.

"Oh no..."

There, at his feet, lied an object that once was known as the Dwemer puzzle box of Arkngthand.

"I fucked up the main quest."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Here it is, the fifth chapter. Personally, I think it lacks something. Perhaps Azirra is not very lively written. I could take more time with this, but you guys already waited long enough. Don't worry, the next chapter shouldn't take a lot of time, I already have over 10k words (yeah, that's one big chapter, I'll most likely split it into two). I noticed that almost every chapter is at least slightly longer than the previous and the same goes for sixth... I guess that's a good sign.**

 **As you see, "The Death of a Taxman" quest is pretty much completed. Not much was changed from game version besides the conversations. Also, in the game Foryn Gilnith fights us only with bare fists, but damn, on the first level he is surprisingly dangerous, kept knocking me down and dealing a lot of damage when I couldn't defend myself. It appears Azirra is your typical Lawful Good character... at least for now. There's a chaotic streak in her, that's for sure, but I decided it would be realistic for her to keep low profile and don't take risks with breaking the law. Won't stay that way for very long, I find Lawful Good boring.**

 **Ted went and made a mess again, this time possibly one with grave consequences. As for bandits - in the game the battlemage is the one that stands watch in front of the entrance to the ruins of Arkngthand (the first big dungeon most of us explores in the game), right next to the Dwemer bridge the players use to get there. Crito is the leader of bandits, he is the only person in the same room in which we find the Dwemer puzzle box for the main quest.**

 **Well, I guess that would be enough lore for this chapter, there wasn't much this time. The next chapter is special - Azirra arrives to Balmora, first big city we see in Morrowind, meets Caius Cosades and the best questline in the history of The Elder Scrolls truly begins... kind of. It's not yet time for her to gather intel on the big bad.**


	6. That Khajiit is a Spy!

**And here we are, in the sixth chapter (by the way, as of right now all chapters were edited by DeathLord-92, so it's TIME TO CELEBRATE, bring your cheese people!). Originally it was going to be longer, but when it reached 10k words, I decided it's too long and cut it in half. Good thing I did so, the other half is STILL growing. I just can't find a good place to finish.**

 ** _Guest_ \- Oh yessss, it was! Now Ted can not simply sit back and watch even if he wanted to, because if something goes wrong, it will be his fault. Le gasp!**

 ** _The nerd who likes digimon_ \- As far as I know, the Dwemer puzzle box from the main quest of Morrowind is just like the ones you can find in Skyrim (we never see it in action in game, so its function is unknown). Yep, I do like characters with chaotic good alignment. She must be good, that's kind of necessery for this fanfic, but let's not forget Khajiits go wherever they want. In here claws are very strong - just like you wouldn't want to fight with a tiger in real life, you wouldn't want to pick a fist fight with cat folk. Yes, do buy Morrowind! The game will annoy you many times with some strange mechanics, stupid leveling system and Ordinators attacking simply because they don't like your helmet, but all of that only increases your satisfaction when you do beat it. And no, you can't do that in five minutes. The video used that as a click bait. You see, remember that falling wizard? He had Scrolls of Icarian Flight, which temporarily increased Acrobatics skill by few hundreds, allowing you to jump across all of Vvardenfell, if you wished to (the thing is, it won't protect from fall damage, so unless you cast a special spell, which is unlikely you will know on first level, you are done for). Another difficulty in Morrowind is that you can actually fail main questline, either by selling quest items or killing wrong people. The main goal however can be reached even if you bypass the questline. Don't worry, I kept it vague: you only need to gather two items from certain dungeons, go to the final boss and use them in specific way along with potions to counteract the effect of items damaging your health over time. So, not really a matter of five minutes.**

 ** _Guest_ \- I'm not discouraged. In fact, I have done several chapters in advance, just in case I'll hit a writer's block so that I can keep up with the shedule. I'm also not doing bad when it comes to views, even if I wish I had more followers, favourites and reviews. Short hiatus was caused by me having a lot on my plate and not by a lack of interest in writing.**

 **This chapter is mostly an exposition. Sorry, Morrowind players, but we need to teach those Skyrim N'wah why exactly Morrowind is superior and factions are a large part of this. And then we can finally bring them back to the Light Side of the Gameforce, where they do know what N'wah means.**

* * *

So here it is. Balmora.

It's... pretty much exactly what she expected from Dunmer city, to be honest. A house can say a lot about the people living inside. Azirra wasn't an architect, but just looking at those buildings made her understand local mindset. There were no excessive decorations, but at the same time those sturdy constructs held a certain... elegance to them. People of Balmora cared about the proper appearance, but they valued stability over beauty, something that distinguished them from their distant cousins, Altmers.

Whatever. They might as well be the same for her, both races were full of assholes with pointy ears.

"H-hheyyy, kitty, if ye *hic* 'now what is good for ye, ye will... Er... What I was sain'?" ***THUD***

Needless to say, the first impression was terrible. At least he was drunk enough to only mumble something and pass out.

She was too tired to care anymore though. Sure, she got her freedom back, gained the money Ergalla promised her (five hundred septims, so she was set for quite a long time if she were to control her expenses) as well as received two bottles of standard healing potions from Thavere Vedrano for taxman's ring, but everything else was just too much. First there was a falling mage, then a dragon, then a dead body... which led to investigation and almost to _another_ dead body, this time either hers or that of the murderer. In the end Foryn Gilnith was fine - covered in scratches and cuts so terrible the captain asked her if she was secretly a werewolf - but barely. He may have had a sharp fork, but in the end it proved inferior to claws. That's why you shouldn't challenge Khajiits in boxing, kiddos. Azirra won at the cost of a shallow wound on her arm, which should heal soon enough. Still, when during the struggle she punctured his throat, she almost died of fright, thinking she killed the guy and was about to end up in prison with life sentence.

And then came the travel by silt strider or, as Azirra called it, a big flea. The cost wasn't a problem, price was just small enough to not be outrageous, fifty septims... she was still sure she got scammed, her rather lavish dinner costed only twelve (it's not often you celebrate being pardoned and getting out of prison). Not that she cared, with five hundred and thirty five septims in her pocket. It was fast too, it brought her to Balmora in just three hours, which on foot would take her much longer, possibly an entire day... if she didn't get lost, that is (note to self, buy a map). She couldn't even complain about the quality of the trip - despite the incredible speed, the shell of massive flea wasn't rocking too much and the caravaner was nice, not just by Dunmer standards, but also imperial. Nah. It was just... weird. Do you know how one controls the silt strider? _By poking it's brain with a rod_. No, seriously, that's how it's done. The shell of silt strider is carved so that it forms seats for driver and passengers, some space for luggage and in the front there is a hole leading straight to beast's brain. Darveme Hleran assured her there's no pain involved, but still...

It was getting dark already and, judging by the dark clouds over her head, she was about to get drenched. She didn't know how long it would take her to find this Caius Cosades. Back at Arrille's Tradehouse in Seyda Neen a scout told her to ask at South Wall Cornerclub, since they knew the most about such things. Now however, looking at dark streets and changing weather, she decided the search can wait until morning. Right now this Khajiit had to find some grub and bed for the night.

Ten minutes later she was already resting in her room in Lucky Lockup, a tavern conveniently located just next to the silt strider platform. As she was slowly falling asleep, with her head on an actual pillow for the first time in months, she couldn't help but wonder what awaits her in the near future. Should she even stay in Morrowind? Of all the provinces of the Empire it was the most hostile to her kind. Her small coin purse, now full of gold and resting safely under the pillow, would be enough to get her to mainland, no doubt about it. But what then? Return to Kvatch, where everyone remembers her as a thief or a beggar at best?

That is, if her small delivery is truly her only condition of freedom. Knowing the mechanics of the Empire...

...

Needless to say, even with all excitement of this day it took poor Khajiit some time to fall asleep.

* * *

Ted was making art.

Alright, that might be too generous. A few lines made in the ash substituting for earth on this mountain with strokes of the wing weren't truly worthy of such term and the subject didn't strictly fit into boundaries of classic or even modern art. Be that as it may, the former human put all of his brainpower, new instincts and creativity into this single task, so we might as well call it that. What task was it?

Finding a name for himself. Three words in Dovahzul that would describe him and determine the limits of his power until the end of his life... Because if this adventure was indeed real, chances of becoming human again were at zero.

Akatosh was right, _Dovahzul_ became natural for him. If he spoke to himself, from time to time he caught himself replacing English words with the language of dragons. It wasn't conscious however - once he said a term that didn't have a direct translation and was struck with a minor headache, since his more human part of the brain couldn't understand it and the dragon one did. That proved to be a nuisance - mortals and dovah were truly nothing alike. At first it also was hard to translate words he deemed fitting to describe himself, only after a while he found out it was about the lack of focus rather than a lot of it. _Dovahzul_ was a river that wasn't going to just flow in the way he ordered, it was about changing the situation, so that it would flow in desired direction simply because it was for the best... If that makes any sense.

In the end he came up with two full names and two words that needed a noun as the third. Ted looked at two first names.

 _Kel Lein Vahlok_

 _Kel Tey Wunduniik_

He wasn't particularly happy with them.

"'Elder Scroll - World - Guardian'... Sounds nice, but too serious. And the other one, Elder Scroll - Story - Traveler... that's just a mouthful." Ted looked at the beginning of the third name. It looked very promising.

 _Rot Heim_

"Word Forging... exactly what I have in mind. But what about the third word?" Ah, it's one of the times he wished he could still reach his head with his limbs. He can't even scratch his head. "Perhaps _In_ , Master... Nah, too proud. _Kro_ , Mage, is nice, but not really fitting and it's terrible as last word. _Sonaan_ is too long, even though I do like singing and music. _Mindol_ , Schemer, is also too much and it would make everyone with knowledge of _Dovahzul_ think I'm some sort of evil mastermind... Or worse, politician! Similar problem would be with _Rotheimufiik_ , Word Forging Troll is a bit on the nose. Ugh. If I won't find a good word, one close to Schemer, but not malicious, of the right length as well, I'll have to go with _Rotheimkaal_ , Word Forging Champion... Still too damn proud."

Ted sighed. He really liked the sound of it, _Rotheim_... If only he had found a fitting word. The dragon shrugged and decided to leave this problem to the future Ted. For now he decided to sit back and relax in the rays of rising sun.

As we mentioned, our hero was a city guy and he definitely wasn't an early bird. As a result, he never bothered to wake up before dawn only to see world's biggest bulb enlighten the urban landscape. Here it was different. Last night he did fell asleep, but... at the same time he kinda didn't? He was aware of his surroundings all the time, so one could say he was awake, however his mind was resting, not thinking about anything, just... observing. Ignoring everything as long as nothing of importance was nearby (as soon as one of the bandits tried to leave somewhere around two in the morning, he immediately snapped head in his direction, making an outlaw yelp and jump back into the depths of the ruins). He 'woke up' an hour before dawn, fully rested and a bit confused. Freaking transformation probably messed up his sleep cycle. Also, other bad news, a lot of this was exactly like Akatosh described, which was making his last line of defense from mental breakdown, Coma Theory, even weaker.

Of course he still had his priorities in order - before he indulged in geek activities, he had to take care of the triple S - shave, shit, shower. Well, now until further notice it was just two. He didn't as well have to do third this time, there was a nice rain in the evening (and that's great - the closest natural water reservoirs were the Odai River and Lake Amaya, and both were way too close to civilization). After a short ethical and philosophical debate with himself he decided taking care of the second need 'pigeon style' was a bit rude, even for him, so he just found in some forgotten corner in the mountains and did his business, after which he returned to the temporary nest. He planned to repeat it in the very same place for a long time just so that one day someone will give the place an amusing name. That sort of goal says a lot about Ted.

All things considered, the sunrise was nice, almost worthy of a painting. Would be better without chunks of human meat in the picture, though. That reminds him, he should do something about it. Leaving such a mess felt wrong.

"Hmm..." hummed Ted. "Perhaps I should figure out _Fus_ sooner rather then later. Legionaries of Moonmoth Fort, I hope you have umbrellas, Ted Weather Broadcast foretells a short, but intense rain of gore... oh, wait, first I'd have to move it to the other side of that Dwemer bridge right here, I forgot there's a small caldera between the mountain and the Fort. Dammit, nice phrase was totally wasted. Whatever, those chunks must disappear."

* * *

Huh. So it wasn't a dream.

At first, when Azirra woke up in comfy bed instead of stinking cell, she couldn't believe how fortunate she was. Perhaps the gods were indeed making up for two decades of bad luck after all.

Her first day in Morrowind might have been challenging, but also profitable, so far she had no regrets. After that small moment of weakness yesterday, today she woke up full of energy and determination to see it through.

After a moderate breakfast (moderate, as in, as moderate as a third meal since leaving imprisonment can be), she decided to take care of her only task so that she can peacefully figure out her next objective. From the innkeeper, who had a name so intricate she hadn't even bothered to try to remember it, she learned that the South Wall Cornerclub was in Labor Town, the poor district of Balmora. And so she headed there immediately.

She already knew she wasn't welcomed here. Almost everywhere she looked Dunmers glowered at her in suspicion. To think that recently she thought Kvatch was bad... Was all of Morrowind like that? Her sensitive ears caught several terms she already learned to recognize as Dunmer insults and one particular word, outlander... Oh joy, these people were so xenophobic there was probably an entire branch of academic study just about it.

Fortunately for her, that was typical only for the Commercial District. The city of Balmora, as she would later learn, was divided into three districts: High Town, situated on a hill to the north-western part of the city, Commercial District, which was directly connected to it, and finally Labor Town, which was separated from the Commercial District by the Odai River, perfectly dividing the city into two halves. The west half was an original, old settlement and as a result most of the Dunmer lived there. The eastern part sprung up very recently, in the last thirteen years, to be exact. That number isn't accidental and it repeats all across Vvardenfell, however we will explain it later on. Since there was no more place for new buildings in the Commercial District and High Town, Labor Town was inhabited mostly by new settlers, both mainland Dunmers and other races. Thanks to that, Azirra could finally relax after crossing one of the several bridges over Odai, even though she entered the part of the city in which without any doubt crime was a much bigger problem than in the western half. After a few turns she finally found herself in front of the South Wall Cornerclub.

As the name suggests, the place was right next to the south wall of the city. The building's condition wasn't good - even by standards of this half of Balmora. It was also Shoddy - yes, a big letter is justified, the whole place was definitely one of those taverns where illegal operations took place often, maybe even on a daily basis, since the other taverns she noticed in Balmora actually looked respectable. Right next to the door was your typical Dunmer banner, which was basically a piece of cloth with the name written in Daedric... or was it Dunmeri? The point is, she couldn't read this weird language, it wasn't Tamrielic. She couldn't even tell for sure where one should begin reading! Luckily, someone came up with a smart idea of adding a picture for the illiterate and those miserable souls, who ended up in Morrowind without the knowledge of whatever sorry excuse for a written language the locals used. Someone else came up with an even better idea and just added "South Wall Cornerclub" in Tamrielic under the original text.

Upon entry Azirra started to cough from how much smoke was in the air. It was a specific smell, not that of normal fire, but rather...

"Drugs?" she blurted out.

"Go downstairs and ask Bacola Closcius. The Guild doesn't deal with those things, it's his side business."

It appears that the only person in sight, a middle-aged Nord woman in a brown robe took her word as a question. She wasn't in the proper bar yet - to her left were stairs to private rooms and in front began a corridor leading to lower levels.

"Er, that's not what I'm here for. I'm searching for someone and I was told some people here could give me directions."

"Anyone important? As long as it's not a special case that kind of info is free of charge."

"His name is Caius Cosades. That's all I know besides that he lives in the city."

Nord frowned.

"Cosades, Cosades... I heard that name before... Ah, yes. Boss and Closcius both know the man. I don't know what his connection with Sugar-Lips Habasi is, but I'm sure the publican provides him with skooma. Ask either one of them, maybe one of them knows where he lives."

"Alright, thanks," answered Azirra and headed downstairs.

The bar was surprisingly quiet and calm for such a shady place. No hostile, racist thugs and no druggies in sight. Sure, there were several suspicious figures in cloaks and light armor, but that's given. Azirra started to believe that the place had a lot of regulars.

"This scent is unfamiliar..."

And that scout leaning on the counter must be Habasi. She was dressed in... Well, it was some form of armor, but one she had never seen in Cyrodill. It definitely wasn't made of metal, rather some sort of... shell? Something local most likely. The fellow Khajiit had light brown fur mixed with white, a quite common coloration, much like her brown stripes. Another similarity, she was a Suthay-raht too - a common breed of Khajiit alike in build to races of man, but with catlike feet, which differs them from the other most common breed, Cathay.

"A new face is amongst us. One with fur too. Interesting. Say, what is your name?"

"I'm Azirra."

"Habasi. Say, this one happened to hear some of your talk with Sottilde. You searching for someone?"

Huh. Her hearing was magnificent even for a Khajiit.

"Yes. Do you know where Caius Cosades lives?"

Habasi's eyes widened and her lips twisted into small smirk.

"You are one of Caius' ... associates? Fuhuhuhuhu... Habasi sees..." stated Habasi, but not elaborating on this comment despite Azirra's questioning look. "In that case Habasi guess Habasi can help you. He lives in the north-eastern part of Labor Town. Turn right after leaving the Cornerclub through the front door, walk forward to the very end, turn left and walk some more. He lives in the last house on that street, and has only one floor."

"Thank you, really. I can't imagine how long it would take me to find it."

"No problem. When you meet him, tell him I might call in a favor in the near future, things are getting heated in Balmora."

"O-okay... Goodbye."

"This one believes 'See you soon' fits better. So until next time, sister."

Habasi seemed happy to see another of her kind, wondered Azirra on her way out. She's probably from some Khajiit community. Maybe even Elsweyr.

Elsweyr. To Azirra that name meant nothing. She was born and raised in Cyrodiil. There weren't many Khajiit in Kvatch and because of that she never even picked up that... distinctive speech pattern. As stupid as that sounds, she thought of herself as an Imperial with fur. That doesn't change the fact that she always felt some kind of regret for her lack of knowledge about the origin of her own race. Whenever a subject of 'warm southern sands' came up in any talk, she went silent. Most would mistake it for being reminiscent, but it was simply shame. The way Habasi acted towards her simply because she was a Khajiit as well made her feel that way too.

Here we are, talking about past, while our not very heroic heroine already found the house.

 ***knock, knock***

For a second there was no answer. After a moment, a muffet click was heard from the other side and the door half-opened to reveal a bald man in his fifties. For someone in his age he was quite muscular, which was easy to notice due to the lack of a shirt. _Seriously, a six-pack?_ He wore simple brown pants and shoes. And he was looking at her suspiciously.

"I do not know you. Who are you? Are you here with some sort of leaflet? I do not care about those, get lost."

 _Jeez._

"No, no, I have a package for you. Caius Cosades, right?"

"A message...? Fine, come in, but no sudden moves. I don't like strangers in my house."

 _Who does?_

The interior of the house was messy and cramped, as expected of a poor skooma addict. There was only one room. A few chests, a small bench, a tiny table and one chair next to it, a bedside table, and a bed were the only furniture. There were a few sacks piled in the corner. Several empty bottles were scattered all over the place.

A drug addict _and_ a drunkie. She was going places. Also, was it a moon sugar on the table?

"Before we begin, close the door." She did. "I meant 'close and lock'." _Ugh, for gods' sake..._ "That's better. Now. You said you have a package for me."

Azirra pulled a small bundle out of the pocket in her pants and handed it over to the Imperial wordlessly. The drunkard took the package and removed the wrapping on the top. She couldn't see what was inside and Cosades was keeping one eye on her the whole time, so she just decided to leave it alone. From how the package felt it most likely contained clothes. Why the Emperor would need her to deliver a bundle of clothes to some drunkard was beyond her.

The Imperial pulled an envelope from the package and put the rest on his bed. Azirra raised an eyebrow - it had a big, very complicated wax seal that resembled the Imperial Dragon. Receiver nodded.

"Everything looks legitimate..." he mumbled, and then added in warmer tone, "Can you turn around so that I can read it without witnesses? All is in order, but I'd rather stay cautious."

"Can't I just go? I was only told to deliver the package."

"No, not until I read it."

Azirra huffed and turned around. Now all she could see was a wall.

The man sure took his sweet time with that letter. After at least fifteen minutes of looking at nothing in particular, filled with occasional rustle of paper, he graciously allowed her to face him again.

"Interesting, interesting indeed... So. Your name's Azirra, correct? A Khajiit with no trade and of unknown parentage?"

She flinched. The letter... It said something about her? Gods, what had she stepped into?

"Y-yes..." _Akatosh, please, don't let it be one of those 'kill the messenger' messages!_

"I have a proposition for you. One that is, if I may say so, quite hard to refuse, given the situation. This letter says the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades."

And just like that Azirra's poor brain was overloaded.

"And that means following my orders. The question is, are you ready for so much responsibility?"

Azirra's reply came without any thinking.

"Whaaaaaat?"

Cosades' palm met his face.

"The recruits these days... Listen. I know that's a lot to take in, but that's just the way things are. The Emperor himself pointed you out to join our ranks."

"But... But I am no fighter. I don't know anything, I'm just a nobody..."

"Which is one of the reasons you will fit in nicely. Those Blades in shining armor that guard the Emperor? That's just our order's official face. Blades are spies first and foremost. People that don't stand out. Nobodies."

Azirra started to shudder.

"I-I don't know... I've never... I just..."

"Calm down." said Cosades in placating voice. "Here, take a seat"

Khajiit collapsed on the only chair in the house. The pupils of her eyes were so big her green irises were almost gone.

"Stop it, really. You are in no danger. Take a deep breath. We have time."

...

"I'm good. Mostly."

"Ask away then."

Her first question was obvious.

"Why specifically me?"

"You simply met certain criteria. Some of them are obvious, like the lack of attachments. I'm afraid anything besides that in the subject is classified for now." Cosades sat on his bed. "Anything else?"

"Just what would this... _job_ entail?"

"We are the Emperor's eyes and ears in the provinces. We watch his enemies, seek weaknesses, make reports and, if an order comes, we strike." Imperial smiled. "Our job also involves nice payments and an early retirement, if you are into those things."

...

"That wasn't really a proposition, wasn't it?"

"Afraid not. Now, before you are told anything else, I must receive a confirmation. Are you ready to follow the orders I give in the name and for the glory of the Emperor?"

Azirra, now more or less calm, but still a bit depressed at how little control she had over her life, sighed.

"I guess I might as well agree just to make things simple. Yes. I'll follow your orders."

"Good. Welcome to the service, Novice Azirra. You're now one of the Blades, the silent protectors of the Empire. Now, I realize you are new not only to this kind of job, but also this land, so I won't rush you. Here, take this. You will need it for minor expenses."

Azirra weighted the coin purse her new superior handed her. On her face bloomed a shy smile.

"You call two hundred septims something for 'minor expenses'?"

"You are new and you look it. At this stage you need a lot of money just to get started. With two hundred septims you will be able to acquire a weapon, armor, maybe learn some spell. It will also make it easier to establish your cover identity."

"What kind of cover identity you have in mind?"

Caius shrugged.

"Why ask me? It's your choice, no one else knows your skills as well as you do. Pick something that you would be fine with being your real, main job, since that's what you will pretend it to be. If I can make suggestion... don't claim to be a warrior. No one will believe."

Azirra wanted to be at least a little angry at him for that jab, but sadly he was right. The only things going for her in close quarters fight were her claws.

"I may know my strengths, but you are the one who knows Morrowind. What are my job options?"

"You can work as a freelancer, making money in many different ways, but I wouldn't recommend that. That job gives no stability. My advice is to join one of the factions. There's a lot of them, so all you need to do is find one you like. It will also give you more connections, which is handy in our trade."

"Sounds nice." she nodded slowly. "Please, list the most important factions."

"First, there's the only legal military organisation in Morrowind, the Legion. I don't need to explain its workings to you, you definitely know all about it. That work doesn't give you much freedom, it will also make many locals mistrustful towards you, so I wouldn't join them if I were you. The Legion's nearest outpost is in Fort Moonmoth south-east of the city, but from what I heard only General Darius at Fort Darius in Gnisis far to the north is looking for new soldiers."

Azirra frowned.

"Ugh, no. I've seen enough uniforms from inside of the cell to last me for life."

"Second, there are illegal organisations. The drawbacks are obvious, but it would give you friends in many places and no one would believe you have not one, but two secret jobs. There are two important factions of this kind, the Thieves Guild and Camonna Tong. Camonna Tong is an ancient syndicate ruling Morrowind's underworld for as long as anyone can remember. They are hostile towards the Empire and other races, and even Dunmers, if they are not from Morrowind, can't join them, so forget about it. Here, in Balmora, they have a tavern all to themselves, the Council Club, right next to the silt strider platform. Stay away from that place if you value your life." Caius took a deep breath. "If you do want to do some stealing, join the Thieves Guild. The Morrowind chapter of the organisation is very young and they struggle for survival - Camonna Tong is much more brutal and they are not going to share. Still, if you don't mind making yourself a target for thugs, ask for Habasi Sweet-Lips at South Wall Cornerclub. She is the leader of Balmora branch."

"Wait, what?" Azirra blinked a few times. She knew there was something strange about the Cornerclub, but Thieves Guild? "Habasi? She leads the thieves? ...Hold on, I just remembered: when I was there today and asked about where you live, she also told me to tell you she might call in a favor soon. She also said things are heating up in the city."

Cosades frowned and stroked his chin.

"So it's even worse than I thought. Camonna and the Guild are about to openly trade blows... Bad sign for newcomers. Camonna takes care of all illegal activities from smuggling to killing and they are very able-bodied. The Guild on the other hand only steals, so not many of it's members are good fighters. Anyway, where were we? Ah, right, the factions.

"Next are the religious organisations: the Tribunal Temple and Imperial Cult. You most likely know the mainstream religion of the Empire, so I'll just add that their headquarters are in Ebonheart. The Temple serves the three god-kings of Morrowind; Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec, and they operate from the Temple Canton of the city of Vivec. In theory you could join either, but the presence of an outlander and a Khajiit in the first one would gather attention.

"The Thieves Guild isn't the only imperial faction that started to establish itself after the late king Llethan opened Vvardenfell to imperial exploration thirteen years ago. Two other guilds also gathered supporters. The Fighters Guild in Balmora is led by Eydis Fire-Eye, I don't know much about her. Ranis Athrys is in charge of the Mages Guild and for the most part she's alright, if a bit vindictive.

"Finally, there are the Great Houses. If they were to ever unite in one cause, they would be able to change all of Morrowind, but they are too busy fighting with each other. There are, in theory, five Houses: Redoran, Hlaalu, Telvanni, Dres, and Indoril. In practice, Indoril is pretty much part of the Temple and Dres has no territory on Vvardenfell, so you can ignore those. Redoran is a house of warriors, they are the strongest in terms of raw power and the most united, but they lack imagination and don't like the Empire. Their seat of power is in Ald'ruhn and that's where all of the councilors live. Hlaalu are landowners and merchants, their power is the coin. They support the Empire and are most willing to offer a membership to an outlander. This city is the heart of their operations, but none of the councilors actually live in Balmora, they have their own plantations and villas. Telvanni focus on magic and are the Mages Guild's greatest rivals. At the moment they are the weakest of all of the Houses because of their hostility towards all that is Imperial. The councilors, who are in most cases thousands of years old, live in towers scattered across the east coast of the island, while the political power is focused in Sadrith Mora, a great distance away from here. For this reason, and for their reluctance to recruit outlanders, they wouldn't be the best choice. Obviously it's not possible to join more than one House."

Caius frowned.

"I think I'm forgetting someone... Right, Morag Tong. It's the local guild of assassins, often used by Great Houses against each other. Unlike the Dark Brotherhood, their faction is legal and all members abide a strict code of honour."

"...Which doesn't change the fact that they are all cold blooded killers, right?" added Azirra. Not a chance would she join them.

"Call them whatever you think they are, some of them are alright. I don't know how to join them or where the headquarters are stationed at. If my sources are right, finding them is in fact one of the conditions of joining. That would be all important factions. There are also Ashlanders, tribals that move their camps from time to time and have a very detached culture, but they are of no importance. No idea how to join them, no idea why someone would want to."

Azirra didn't have to think long about it, the choice seemed obvious.

"I have no desire to bother with politics, I never even killed a person, I'm not religious and I lack nerves to fight monsters or steal. With my birthsign magic comes naturally to me, so I guess I'll join the Mages Guild. If that's all, I'll be going now."

Azirra stood up, but Cosades halted her with a gesture.

"Almost all. With you joining the Blades you can ask your fellow agents for equipment or advice as a gift for your initiation, they might be also willing to train you if you make it worth their while. Here in Balmora, you can find Rithleen, Tyermaillin and Nine-Toes. Warrior Rithleen lives two houses south, upstairs. Tyermaillin is a healer and he lives in the same building, but downstairs. Nine-Toes also lives close - turn right when you leave my house and then left on the next crossroad. It will be the second house to your left. If you will be going to Ald'ruhn, Caldera or Seyda Neen, talk with me, there are agents there too. Make sure to tell them that 'a new friend joined the circle', so that they know I sent you. Also, a little advice" Here he smiled teasingly. "Buy some better clothes, those prison rags won't get you into the Guild, Novice."

"I'll keep that in mind, oh great Spymaster." answered Azirra, silently thankful her fur would mask the blush of embarrassment. She went for the door.

"Oh, one more thing. Don't rush here for new orders as soon as you join the Guild, do some work. Visiting me too often might make someone suspicious. See you next time, Novice."

After leaving the house Azirra realized in just how ridiculous the situation she ended up was and barely held back a laugh. Her, a homeless Khajiit, a secret agent of the Emperor. Old Uriel Septim VII must be getting desperate for new spies.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So... the economy in the world of Elder Scrolls is a massive middle finger to every economist in history. That's a fact. Armors and weapons don't make any sense - they are just too cheap, with the possible exception of daedric ones, which are so expensive no merchant in the game can pay full price (not even ridiculously rich cheat merchants, Mudcrab and Creeper), but that might actually be taking it to the opposite extreme. Even with the tools we have today it takes a lot of effort and time to make an armor. Even if we assume there was a big competition amongst the blacksmith and ore was cheap (which it definitely wouldn't be, not with Great House Hlaalu controlling the mining), the canon prices are still too low to make it all work. And thus I decided to came up with an economy for Morrowind myself for the sake of this fanfiction (I'm such a geek...). I believe the prices of many products will be still too small, but I decided to pick a safe middle ground between canon and realism. The other stupid thing about the canon are beast races. In Arena and Daggerfall Khajiits and Argonians were... different or didn't existed at all. Seriously, Khajiits were just humans/elves with tails. In future games it is explained that Khajiits can grow up to be in different forms depending on the phases of moons in which they were born or something like that. Then again, those human and elven Khajiits are just absent in all games since Morrowind, just like other races. In ESO it was fixed to some extent, but how canon is ESO anyway? In the end I just said "Fuck it, time to make something up". I already mentioned two types of Khajiit. Suthay-raft and Cathay are, in** **this** **version of Tamriel, the most common types met outside of Elsweyr. Suthay-raht is the type you see in the game - due to the shape and toughness of their feet they can't and don't need to wear boots of any kind. The other type has feet like humans and as such needs to wear footwear (Oblivion and Skyrim Khajiits). In Morrowind Khajiit player also can't wear some helmets, I decided to ignore that completely. Their heads look human enough to me to give them option to wear full helmet.**

 **With that said, let's take a look at the story. Ted** **is searching for a good name and, if you are curious, I do already know how to name him. He** **doesn't do much for now - like I said, being a lone dragon gives him no chance to interact with the world in a way that doesn't involve fighting. There might be something in the next chapter, we will see. Also, with Dwemer puzzle box not only damaged, but also not in its proper place, he is burdened with responsibility of handing it over personally to the Nerevarine. Azirra** **arrested Foryn Gilnith instead of killing him, which was the only option of enforcing justice in the game (since I'm taking a bit more realistic approach to the world of Elder Scrolls, I might as well have him knocked out instead of dead). She also** **joined the Blades - I bet Skyrim players feel a bit lost, since they know them only as distrustful dragon hunters. I decided to give her some time to prepare herself mentally and physically before the first mission, instead of being thrown into challenging task right off the bat. Seems logical to me. To those who think she took it in way too easily, just wait for the next chapter.**

 **Speaking of the next chapter, Azirra will take a closer look at Balmora and befriend some people... one of them in a strange, brutal way. See you soon and don't forget to make some comments, I need them as the fuel for the hype train!**


	7. The Tutorial Town of Balmora

**Welcome to the seventh chapter! Sorry about the crappy beginning. As I said last time, it was originally a part of the previous chapter, so there's hardly any proper introduction. Yeah, I was simply too lazy to fix that.**

 ** _Lunar Loon_ \- Well written? Maybe. Well planned out? Not really. Sure, I have several files in Liquid Story Binder dedicated to Azirra's and Ted's backstory, skills, inventory and disposition towards factions and one massive file about the economy of Morrowind, but the plot itself isn't really well planned out. I know the general direction in which I move things, but for the most part I simply let things flow on their own - if a character was given a lot of, well, character, one doesn't have to wonder what actions they will take in a situation, you just know. So all it really takes to write a story with such characters is to make up circumstances in which they make desired choices. I sure didn't planned at first to spare Foryn Gilnith, but at one point I just knew outright killing him would clash with Azirra's approach to things. I love it when my characters gain so much life I can't just do anything I want with them. : )**

 ** _Its your Uncle bourbon_ \- Aaaand the prize for the shortes review goes to you! Still, thanks!**

 ** _Guest_ \- I played Morrowind _after_ playing Skyrim, now imagine how I felt with reaaallyyyy slooooow movement and stupid combat system. Still finished the game without mods, but ever since then I always had at least two mods for these problems.**

 **With that said, enjoy! There's some action, but don't expect too much, most of the chapter is filled with exposition and worldbuilding.**

* * *

Shouting got old really fast. At first Ted was just screaming the most famous word in Dovahzul, with little success. After that he tried to take advice given in game by 'dragon sensei' Paarthurnax and meditate on the meaning of the word.

"Alright," said our protagonist after several minutes of pondering the usage of force. "Pushing, crushing, hitting, breaking, smashing and Jedi-ing your way out of trouble. To be a dragon is to be a force... no, THE force. If I won't do this now, I will never succeed."

The dragon faced the remains of the bandit. They were starting to stink. Ted closed his eyes and braced himself. When he opened his jaws, the entire world seemed to slow down and take a breath along with him.

This world is just a dream of a god... and a dream can be changed with your will.

" ** _Fus!_** "

* * *

In the most holy part of the biggest city of Vvardenfell, a certain... being opened his eyes. For a second the perfect balance of the Godplace shifted, bringing his mind back to the mortal realm... As much as it was possible, that is. He frowned. He didn't feel that since the day in which the forests of Cyrodiil were banished from the reality itself. This time it was still much weaker and yet...

" _Thu'um used by a godlike being... That is... Unexpected._ "

He attempted to return to his previous state to find the source of disturbance, but as soon as he did he was hit with another wave. And another. And another.

" _Curious_."

* * *

Locked.

"Oh well. Looks like Rithleen isn't home." Azirra shrugged and went downstairs to knock on Tyermaillin's entrance.

"Enter!" she heard from inside.

She did as asked and the first thing she saw was an Altmer in a robe leaning against the wall. He was frowning. The first thing she felt, on the other hand, was the blade of the sword on her throat.

She gulped and froze.

"We've seen you going to Cosades' house," said someone hidden behind the door, some woman. "Who are you and why did you meet with him?"

Azirra started sweating. She hoped her guess was right.

"Er... I'm Azirra... A new friend joined the circle?"

The sword left her throat and a Redguard woman walked into her field of view. She was wearing a strange suit of armor, as exotic as the one Habasi had, but different. Bulkier, among other things.

"See, Rithleen? I told you everything was alright, after all she hadn't even carried any weapons, and trying to overpower Caius in close quarters would be a suicide," said Altmer, probably Tyermaillin.

"In our line of work, you can't be too cautious." answered Redguard and she smiled. "I'll go get my gift," she added and left, closing the door behind herself.

"Sorry about that, Novice. Most of the time she is easy to get along with, but she doesn't mess around if Caius is in danger," apologized the Blade. Azirra smiled.

"No problem, I understand."

"Now that pleasantries are behind us, let's get to the point," said Tyermaillin, approaching the chest in the corner and opening it. "I have a few things that could be of use to a beginner, but I must know what your specialty is. No point giving you something that will be useless to you."

"I'll go join Mages Guild after I'm done with shopping, so anything in that field would be great."

"Ah, a fellow spell caster? Then, as my gift, I'll offer to teach you one spell, give you several cheap potions, or Journeyman's alembic. Take a pick."

Azirra pondered her choice. She could always buy some potions, but alembic and new spells were gifts that kept on giving.

"What spells are you teaching?" she asked.

"I teach spells from four out of seven schools of magic. Mainly Alteration and Mysticism, but I have also one spell from Illusion and Restoration. From Alteration, I offer weight modifiers and shields. From Mysticism, I have spells that dispell, reflect or absorb magic. The other two spells are Calm Creature and Resist Common Disease, both of which are self-explanatory."

"I think I'll take alembic after all. Absorbtion spells sound nice, but with alembic I can brew my own potions."

"Here you go then," Tyermaillin was about to give her the apparatus, but then he realized something. "Hold on, you don't have a bag or anything. Give me a second, I think I had an old backpack somewhere."

At this moment Rithleen returned with a big bundle.

"Alright newbie, I see you are about as well armored as a rat, so I have some armor for you. If you are more for sneaking than fighting, you can sell it, steel cuirass and helmet would fetch you a nice sum of gold."

Azirra gaped. Steel cuirass and helmet? She was no merchant, but even average combat equipment was worth quite a lot. It takes some time to make a breastplate, even from the best blacksmith.

"Really?"

"Really. I was using it when I began, but I decided to give up some of that protection for agility and bought myself bone mold armor." So that's what this material is... "Believe me, soon you're going to wish you bought a full suit of armor. I sure did when Caius send me on my first mission. Let me tell you, daedra are a pain in the ass."

Suddenly Azirra felt a lot less optimistic about her future.

* * *

Nine-Toes gave her moon sugar. He gave her freaking moon sugar.

She almost gouged out his eyes for such offense, but Argonian insisted that he didn't mean anything by it and that one agent at least pretending to be an addict is already too much. He was right about it being worth a lot, (Ra'virr the trader ended up crying with joy that he finally could restock his private supply. He also kissed her in excitement, for which he earned a slap to the face), so she forgave him. With money from Caius and Seyda Neen she had almost one thousand septims, something she couldn't even dream about back in Kvatch... And that's not including what would she get for armor if she were to sell it. The reason she didn't do it was the same for which despite so much gold in her backpack she felt endangered - a feeling that her very first task for Cosades might prove too challenging and cost her life. She slowly started to realize that adventurers earned a lot of gold, but saved little, since most of it went into increasing the chances of survival in their next quest.

With her resources reaching an all-time high, she bought a full set of expensive clothing. She wasn't one for dressing up nicely, (she learned there are more important things than the quality of one's clothes), but a well-dressed wizard was going to be treated much better than a skilled one. Sad, but true. She also bought a much cheaper set for travelling. Together it cost her almost three hundred septims. Then again, she picked a shop in High Town.

Outfitted like that, in the most expensive robes she could buy without putting her Survival Fund at risk, she entered the building of the Mages Guild.

...

The first two Guild members she met were wearing even more expensive dresses. Fuck.

"No, I'm afraid I cannot advance you in the rank just yet, Apprentice Galbedir. You have skills, I don't doubt that, but you still need to do more duties for the Guild," stated a Dunmer woman in a bored voice. Azirra had a feeling it wasn't the first time she had a talk like this one.

"Ranis, I belive you don't understand. I NEED that advancement. If Ajira advances before me..." The other elf, a Bosmer in the most stunning robes Azirra ever saw, had such an annoying voice the Khajiit was surprised Skooma Cat had not heard the breaking glass all the way in the Shivering Isles. Mad God or not, he would surely strike her down on the spot for such noise.

"First, don't address me by name, we aren't friends. It's 'Wizard Athrys' or 'Guild Steward'. As for Ajira, know that I too used to make bets like the one the two of you did and I understand how they work. I'll judge your actions and skills, nothing else. If you fail to advance before her, it will be because she was more useful to the Guild. We're finished here."

The Bosmer snorted and disappeared behind the corner of the corridor. The other woman looked at Azirra.

"Welcome. Sorry about that, some members sadly don't seem to understand how the advancement works. I'm Ranis Athrys, Wizard in the Mages Guild and Steward of this guild hall. How can I help?"

"Good morning. My name's Azirra. I wish to join the Mages Guild."

Athrys took a moment to take a good look at her and nodded.

"Since the Guild's reputation most likely won't suffer by accepting someone of your standing, I will enlist you as soon as you pass the entrance exam." Azirra nodded, calm on the outside, but already nervous on the inside. _What exam?_ "However, before I'll let you join, I must make sure you understand the expectations and purpose of our organization. We are the ones responsible for providing magic services to the public. We teach spells, sell potions, scrolls and magical items, offer magical transportation, search for new applications of magic, and handle any magic related work government or third parties hires us for. All members have a discount for each other's services. As a new member, you will receive tasks from specific mages. Once you prove yourself, you will have the option to switch to a long-time position, such as guild guide, enchanter or teacher. In order to advance, you must show commitment in your work and in some cases prove your skills by passing exams, namely when advancing to Apprentice, Journeyman, Magician, Wizard or Master Wizard. Know that damaging the Guild's good name, working against the interests of the Guild, or committing a serious crime against other members will get you expelled and it can only be pardoned by the Archmage. Do you agree to those terms?"

Azirra just nodded. She wasn't sure she would manage to keep her voice even.

"In that case follow me. We will perform an exam downstairs, in the main hall. There's not enough place here."

As they were slowly descending into the basement of the building, our heroine's mind was descending into panic. She could cast some spells and brew potions, but that's all. No solid knowledge, no proper education. She knew how to bend fingers and what phrases to think to send a bolt of lightning into someone's face, but the theory behind it was unknown to her.

She could already see it - a long, massive table and behind it a row of old wizards, all looking at her intently and searching for any mistakes...

So you can imagine her surprise when at the bottom of the stairs she found herself in quite cozy and a little bit messy room. There were some bookstands and bench to her left, while to the right she saw a tiny 'lecture hall', if a small space sheltered from the rest of the room with paper walls could be called that. Further in was a similarly screened area with beds for the guild members and on the opposite side a few desks. At the opposite wall was an entrance to the small room with some complicated runes on the floor. There was even some pretty plant growing in the center. Several mages were reading something at the bench, but no one reacted to their entrance.

"Well, cast your spells."

Azirra blinked. Was she really so deep in thoughts she missed something vital?

"I'm sorry, did you said something?"

Guild Steward sighed.

"I asked you to cast your spells. As far as I know there's only one meaning to that sentence," stated Ranis Athrys coldly, clearly not liking it when others paid no attention to what she said. She pointed to her right. "If your repertoire includes Destruction spells, aim them at that cracked wall over there, we reinforced it for such purposes. Show spells from at least three different schools and one extra. And please, don't set anything on fire."

Spells... She had to cast spells. That she could do. Alright... Here comes the first one. Azirra extended all fingers and with a flick of the wrist she cast her oldest spell, Spark.

"That's one. Continue."

Not changing the position of her fingers, she extended her arm in front of her and cast her second spell, Fire Bite, coating her hand in a cloak of flames. She learned it mostly so that she could easily make a campfire. To her disappointment it wasn't as effective as she expected, but at least it was useful in a fight.

"That's two spells from Destruction school. Now something from others."

Now only the pointing finger and the middle one were extended. What Azirra didn't know was that while those particular gestures during the spellcasting were helping stabilize the flow of mana, it was unnecessary unless conducting really advanced spells, though it wasn't detrimental in any way with simple ones. After a short mental command, she was enveloped in a blue light.

"Ah, that's Restoration. One of the spells in Balyna's series, correct?"

"Yes, Balyna's Soothing Balm. For small cuts."

"Carry on."

Azirra extended all fingers except for the thumb and, after a barely noticeable sheen covered her body, her coloration started to match that of surroundings behind her. A great spell if someone you would rather not meet was searching for you.

"One of the Chameleon spells, Illusion school. That makes four spells and three schools. Welcome to the Guild."

Azirra frowned. That's what they were calling an exam? Though, truth be told, if she asked for six spells, Azirra would be in trouble.

"Not that I oppose, but... Wasn't this a bit easy?"

Athrys sighed.

"It was. Sadly, the one in charge of establishing the rules of the entrance exam was a new Archmage of the Morrowind branch of the Guild, Trebonius Artorius. And that's relatively well done work when it comes to him. As you can guess, his assistant's task ever since then was making sure the most important documents were already filled and introduced to him as 'just a formality you need to sign'."

 _There are freeloaders everywhere you look. Yep, this sure is a part of the Empire_ , thought Azirra with a smile.

"You have the rank of Associate now. I don't have duties for someone of the lowest rank. Ask Ajira about it, she surely has some small tasks. Once you've finished several, and learned more spells, you can ask me about the advancement. Apprentice Dren!"

An older Dunmer wizard, who up until now was lost in the book at one of the desks, lifted his head.

"Hm?"

"Please, give our new member a tour. I must return to my duties, someone at Council Manor wanted to speak with me. Once I'll return, I'll prepare your paperwork, Associate. Goodbye."

After that Athrys left the room. Dren shook his head.

"Typical. Now she believes herself too good to do some introductions."

"Is it really so bad?"

"Bad? It's not terrible, but she's getting on everyone's nerves. She simply wants respect. The problem is, she doesn't deserve it. All she does is bullying mages from outside of the Guild, both Telvanni and independent ones. It will end badly, I just know it." The wizard sighed. "Oh, but that's not really my problem. I'm Marayn Dren, Apprentice. I sell spells from the four schools of magic and train in efficient use of three."

"Name's Azirra. There's a difference between teaching spells and training in magic?"

"Of course there is. By 'selling spells' I mean selling books augmented with magical potential. If you are talented, you will learn a spell after reading it once, but not everyone is brilliant. Some need to take their time and continue reading even after the original teaching spell dissolves or even ask someone to show them what is it all about. Anyway, come, I'll introduce you to others."

The first person they met was surprisingly an Orc woman. She was searching for something on the bookcase.

"That right there is Sharn gra-Muzgob, our resident researcher and necromancer."

She immediately stood upright and turned around with dangerous fire in her eyes.

"I am NOT a necromancer! Stop saying that, it's not funny!"

"Oh, you know I don't mean anything by that."

"Yes, but not everyone knows you. Someone might get a wrong idea and away I go, taken by Ordinators."

 _Ordinators?_

"I'm sorry, I'm new to Vvardenfell. Who are Ordinators?"

Sharn gra-Muzgob smiled bitterly.

"Holy enforcers of the will of the Gods and protectors of the Tribunal Temple... If you ask their priests, that is."

"And if you question anyone else, they will tell you they are a band of thugs who break the legs of anyone who earns their ire," added an old Altmer woman with white hair tied in a bun, who sat nearby in a chair. "I'm Estirdalin. I teach and sell spell books as well. I'm sorry, my hearing isn't so good anymore, what is your name?"

"It's Azirra." She was slowly getting tired of repeating her name so many times in one day. "The local religion holds an armed force? How is this legal?"

"It's all in the Armistice," explained the Orc. "It was signed back when the Empire was still expanding. Tiber Septim and Vivec met in person and, to ensure peace, they came up with terms on which Morrowind would become an imperial province. The Empire got a figurehead king chosen by the Emperor, reduction of Morrowind's military force, law to run mining operations, monopoly of magical services for our Guild and, most importantly, the Numidium, with which Septim walked all over the Summerset Isles. The Armistice gave Dunmers many rights protecting their culture, Great Houses were given a lot of political power, slavery remained legal, the Temple is free to persecute religious dissidents and Morrowind became the only province in which necromancy is illegal."

Khajiit's ears moved. _Wow, I dodged an arrow back in the exam..._

"You sure would know, Sharn."

"Shut up, Marayn. Look, I must finish this assignment for tomorrow, can you bother someone else?"

The Dunmer shrugged.

"Fine. Come on, Azirra, there are two more people I would like you to meet."

After that they entered a small room in the back. In one corner was a big platform covered in runes. In the opposite end was a desk covered in the alchemic ingredients. There were two mages here, a Breton next to the platform and a Khajiit behind a desk, who right now was grating something in the pestle.

"Over there stands Masalinie Merian, our lovely guild guide. She can teleport you to any other guild hall, as long as you can pay a modest fee."

The mage rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, Marayn, stop hitting on me. Just because you are the only man in this building doesn't make you a big deal."

The other Khajiit chuckled and stood up.

"This one is Ajira, guild alchemist. It is nice to know another one of my kind will live under the same roof. Welcome to the Guild, sister."

Azirra smiled.

"I'm Azirra. It's the second time this day I was called that by a fellow Khajiit. Are all Khajiits close to each other in Vvardenfell?"

Ajira's fur bristled. The heroine looked in confusion at such reaction.

"Please, friend, I know it's a lot to ask for, but... If we talk with each other, can you avoid speaking like that? It always disturbs me greatly when a Khajiit talks like not Khajiit. And yes, Khajiits of Balmora, Pelagiad and Vivec are close to each other."

"I..." started Azirra, but quickly corrected herself, seeing Ajira's twitching tail. "This one will try, but no promises. Azirra is from Cyrodiil, not Elsweyr."

"Well, I believe my job here is done," stated Dren. "I doubt you would want to meet that brat Galbedir for anything not related to enchanting. Oh, one more thing, as a guild member you can sleep in one of the beds and use one of the chests to store your stuff. You can get a key from Athrys once she returns. See you later."

Ajira wasted no time engaging Azirra in another talk.

"So, if Azirra just joined the Guild, Athrys surely told you to ask Ajira for some duties."

"She did. You have something for me?"

"Mhm. It's not a hard task, but one that takes time and requires to take a small trip. Ajira is preparing two reports on local flora and their alchemic uses. Athrys allowed Ajira to assign duties that would help her finish this task. And there's a rather big problem... Ajira has an allergy for mushrooms."

Azirra shifted uncomfortably.

"So do... So does Azirra."

"Oh." The other mage frowned. "That is troublesome. Ajira knows how terrible the allergy is, but Ajira assures you that if you take that burden, it will be a great boon to your advancement. This one will also add four minor health potions as a payment. Please, don't make Ajira do that herself!"

"Alright, alright! It's not the first time I've... Sorry, Azirra has done that. What mushrooms do you need?"

"First, Luminous Russula. Short and smelly toadstool, it's brown on the top. Next is another toadstool, Violet Corpinus. It has a long stem and actually glows in the dark. Bungler's Bane and Hypha Facia both are brown and grow on trees, the second one is smoother and it's color is slightly lighter. Unlike Bungler's Bane it is also not poisonous."

"Uh..." Azirra patted her pockets, but realized she didn't bought any kind of paper. "Can you write it down? I don't have a pen and paper on me."

"Sure, here, take Ajira's original assignment. Everything is there." Ajira handed her a small note. "You can find all mushrooms on the Bitter Coast. When you leave the city by the south gate, follow the Odai River until you see a wooden bridge. Don't cross the bridge, just go west over the hills and you are there."

"Then Azirra guesses she'll go there soon, maybe even today. Say, you know people around, who should this one ask about Destruction spell books?" asked Azirra. All this Khajiit talk was wearing her down.

"Athrys knows the best spells, but her services are for upper ranks only. Marayn sells some Destruction spell books, but if my memory is right his spells only increase the weakness to a spell, not deal actual damage. For that go to the Altmer, Estirdalin."

"Thanks. Azirra will be going now."

"Until next time, sister."

* * *

In the end Azirra bought two spell books from an old Altmer: Poison, which was a distance spell of average strength, and Poisonous Touch, which was even stronger, but limited in the range. Spell books sure were expensive - they were, next to armor, amongst the most demanding things to make. Scribes had to work hard entire day just to make a single, small book. And that's just the cheap ones, without those fancy letters. An enchantment, which made it easier to learn a spell, also was costly - the more advanced the spell, the bigger the price. In other words, don't act so surprised at the fact she now only had a little bit over two hundred septims. Still, a good investment in her lifespan, few enemies are resistant to poisoning spells.

At the moment, our heroine was bracing the hills Ajira told her about. And damn, they were steep. Think forty fives degrees steep, on both sides. Of course, that's when she stumbled, just as she was almost in the swamps of Bitter Coast.

"Son of a...!"

 ***SPLASH***

There. Now she indeed was in the swamps of Bitter Coast.

With the exception of this single accident, which thankfully dirtied only her traveling clothes (and fur, can't forget about that, it takes a lot of effort to get rid of mud in one's fur), her trip up until then was undisturbed. A small... worm thingie, that's what she decided to call it, couldn't really count as a disturbance. The disgusting pest jumped at her just south of the city and the Khajiit heroically squashed the vermin under her foot, thus giving her contribution to public safety.

Finding 'shrooms was easy, they were everywhere - that's what both her eyes and nose told her. What her senses failed to inform her about was much more important than some spores in the air.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A Khajiit all on their own?"

 _...I'm so dead._

Not even few meters away from her stood two very different people. One was a nervous, skinny and poorly dressed Khajiit. The other...

"Don't you know that in this land a Khajiit going around on their own is asking to become a slave? You sure don't look like you can take care of yourself. Not even armor or a weapon to protect yourself." A male Dunmer, outfitted with iron cuirass, greaves and boots.

 _Double crap. I left my armor in the backpack..._ Don't act so surprised, would you put on armor just for a mushrooming?

"It would be risky for me to travel with two slaves at once... Too dangerous..." _Thank gods._ "Though... I only just left Hla Oad. If you were to, let's say, faint, it would be my duty as a citizen to bring you somewhere away from the dangerous wilderness... Where you could wait at my return from my little trip with Rabinna..." _Gods, I hate you!_

Azirra decided to not give the Dunmer the advantage of first move. With a wave of her hand she sent a green ball of magic right into his gut, making him gasp and take a step back. Judging by the sudden change in the coloration of his skin, the spell was a success, which in itself was amazing - she only opened both spell books back at the Guild just to use the enchantment, she hadn't done any reading.

And yet the Dunmer started holding his stomach as if any moment now some kind of a parasite would jump out of it. That... was disturbing. Disturbing and... kind of awesome?

Sadly, once her enemy stood up straight with gritted teeth, she realized the spell wasn't meant to beat someone on its own, but rather distract the enemy. An opportunity wasted, I suppose.

"You will pay for that."

The Dunmer pulled out a short iron sword. Judging by the gray shine, it was enchanted, as if she wasn't already done for. Azirra's eye twitched.

"Before this day ends, you will know the true meaning of pa... ARGH!"

This time he was shocked with her Spark.

"You really talk too much," commented Azirra in a voice that almost convinced her she wasn't actually dying of fright. She knew very well that Spark was useful only for scaring away rats.

"I changed my mind. I'll just kill you." This time, instead of talking even more, he snarled and ran towards her.

Azirra, not encumbered by armor, dodged the first and second strikes, if just barely. The Dunmer however had no intention of playing fair and, instead of continuing an attack with his sword like any proper swordsman would, he punched her in the face with his empty hand when she tried to get around him. Azirra landed on the ground with a bleeding nose.

"Eh heh heh..." chuckled the Khajiit, no longer hiding her panic. _I'm going to die._ "Can't we just talk about it?"

"Do I look like someone who wants to?" asked the Dunmer with a grin.

"I don't know. My life is flashing in front of my eyes and it covers everything."

"A joker, huh? Good for you. You will really need some laugh in the Void." The slaver lifted his sword.

That's when Azirra decided to play dirty herself and tossed a handful of sand in his eyes.

"RAAAAAAGH! You bastard!"

The Khajiit got on all fours and jumped with her claws extended.

Armor is a good protection, but it won't save your ass if it doesn't cover your throat in this sort of situation. For the slaver Relam Arinith, it didn't.

Azirra, who's entire life's combat experience ended at giving others burns or kicking men in the crotch, was looking in dread as the Dunmer choked on his own blood, while more of it was pouring out his armor, on the ground and her hands, still lodged in his throttle. She jumped back and saw as, no longer supported by her grip, the dying body fell. The fall was slow, as if a great tree was giving in to the power of time. When it hit the ground, only the lifeless eyes of the man she murdered looked back at her - the soul that used to hid behind them was already on the way to Etherius. It was one thing to prepare for a day in which she would have to kill in self-defense, and completely another to do the deed.

 _I'm a murderer_ , was all that Azirra was thinking. Right now, it didn't matter that he wanted to enslave her and then kill her. It didn't matter he was the one who started it or that he most likely had done something like that many times before. Just this one fact. _I killed him_.

A frightened sobbing was what brought her out of her somber, full of dreaded thoughts. Once the other Khajiit, now cowering on the ground, noticed Azirra looking at her, she yelped and curled up on the ground, not caring about the presence of mud.

"Sera, do not hurt Rabinna!" cried the miserable Khajiit. _What..._ "You killed bad master, but do not kill Rabinna! Rabinna good slave, Rabinna useful! Rabinna will serve, Rabinna will..."

"Stop, just... just stop." Azirra had no words for this. "You are, uhh, free, yes. So..."

She yelped when the other Khajiit had crawled over to her and hugged her feet.

"No! Rabinna is a slave, Rabinna must have a master... A slave without a master is just... dead."

At first Azirra thought Rabinna was broken beyond repair if she said such things, however she realized there was some truth to her words. Slaves had nothing. If left alone in the wild, they were doomed to perish. The young mage gulped. She could do one of the two things. Her first option was to tell her she was on her own, and wish her good luck. The only other choice was to ask her to follow... but follow where?

"Rabinna, was it? Do you have any family, friends?"

"Rabinna had a family... in Elsweyr... Haven't seen them in a long time."

Of course, it would be too easy.

"First, please stand up." The request was hastily fulfilled. "Is there anyone in Morrowind who helps slaves?"

"...Rabinna heard there was someone. Twin Lamps. They fight masters and free slaves. My master was often angry about them. Kept saying they were stealing all workers and giving them all to the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart and they were sending everyone home."

Azirra frowned, trying to remember what little she was told by the scout back in Seyda Neen. _Note to self, I really need to buy a map._

"It's west of Vivec, right?" Vivec, the capital... Well, not really, she was pretty sure the true capital of Morrowind was on mainland, but here, in Vvardenfell, the city of Vivec was the biggest. The most important part? It would require a lot of walking to get there. "He mentioned some town... Was there some sort of travel services where you two came from?"

Once it became clear to her she couldn't just leave the other Khajiit on her own, (she valued being able to sleep at night, thank you very much), and decided having her around would just burden her, it was obvious she could only dump the problem on someone else. Someone who had time, money, and guts to do what she couldn't.

At least that's what she kept telling herself. The truth is... just a few days ago, she was a lot like this slave. She would help her because she wished someone had helped her back then with no strings attached.

"There are ships and boats. Rabinna doesn't know if there were any to Ebonheart."

"Let's go check it then," concluded Azirra, but stopped half-step. "But first... Help me throw the body into this pond over there so that no one will find him, after we remove the armor that is. Also... do you have an allergy for mushrooms?"

* * *

You have no idea how boring it is to be a peaceful dragon. _If this is how bored Alduin felt in the Merethic Era before the Dragon War, no wonder he decided to liven things up._

Seriously, dragons had very few activities. Hunting, fighting, flying, half-sleeping. That's it. There was no TV, no computer, no books, not even just another person to talk with, since mortals would just run away screaming. He had no intention to fly to Skyrim just to meet Paarthurnax, he wasn't that desperate. It's not like he could fly to some settlement and enter a tavern.

Once he got rid of the bloody mess with several uses of _Fus_ (which, by the way, got old really fast when there were no urns and NPCs to send said urns at), he spent a short while fangirling. After he managed to calm down, he decided to take a flight. Nothing else to do.

 _I think I'm getting better at it_ , thought Ted while increasing his altitude so much he could see a big chunk of southern Vvardenfell just by looking down. The sight was truly marvelous, if a bit somber.

At least a half of southern Vvardenfell was covered by ash, which _Sahqo-Strunmah_ , Red Mountain, generated over the centuries. Right under him began Molag Amur, an area so unhospitable that Sauron would mistake it for his Mordor. Even with how far Ted could see in his position he could barely notice the eastern edge of this cursed land and the small city of Molag Mar. To the north was an even more ominous sight - the Ashlands and Red Mountain itself. Even now, when weather in the visible part of the province was just perfect, there was a grim, dark red cloud hanging over the greatest volcano of Tamriel... A cloud that wasn't exactly natural. Storms carried the ashes cursed by the Devil himself, so that one day he can invade the very minds of the people of this land. Ted subconsciously squinted his eyes and in relief he noticed the fortress of Ghostgate and the magical Ghostfence were still standing tall, warding off the seat of power of the terrible Dagoth-Ur.

From his elevated position, he could also see Balmora, the second biggest city in Vvardenfell. The city of trade, from which West Gash started. Those citizens who would look up at this moment probably would assume he was some sort of a bird or a cliff racer, if they would notice him at all - that's how high he was flying.

To the west stretched the Bitter Coast, a long streak of dark green swamp, interrupted only in one place by gray mountains... The mountains that were his place of origin in this world. Somewhere under those trees were the villages of Gnaar Mok, Hla Oad and Seyda Neen, mostly hidden from his sight.

The dark green of Bitter Coast yielded to the lighter shade of the Ascadian Isles somewhere around the capital of the district. This place was a proof that Vvardenfell wasn't a land of just fire and ash – the beautiful Lake Amaya surrounded by fertile lands became a heart of the island. Across the Isles cities and towns of Suran, Pelagiad, Ebonheart and, most importantly, Vivec stood proud. Even at this distance Ted still could see all nine cantons of the massive metropolis. There was however one tiny detail that made him frown.

Vivec was the only city in Tamriel that had a freaking moon hanging over its border. A moon that, once god Vivec will lose his power, will fall and start a reaction that will break this land forever. Forget Dagoth-Ur and his twisted armies of abominations, this was a Majora's Mask all over again... But even worse because there would be no Link to save the day.

It was then that Ted realized he wouldn't be able to just sit back and watch as almost the entire province dies... Just like he wouldn't be able to ignore the Oblivion Crisis, the floating island of Umbra, Thalmor's rise to power and civil war in Skyrim... Not with knowledge how many people would die, how many would suffer... Not with how much he knows about what is going to happen.

"I don't have to act," stated the dragon, lowering his altitude so that he was almost grazing the tips of mountains of Molag Amur. "I really don't have to, since in the end the mortal kind as a whole will be alright... But I WANT to. I don't want to see this land on fire, I don't want Martin to die, I don't want Ulfric to start the war just because he believes he's responsible for the fall of the Imperial City. I just can't ignore all of that. I'll change what is going to happen. That's my... duty... my purpose." Suddenly his eyes widened, not at the orange clouds that were coming in his direction, but at sudden realization.

" _Aak_. Guide. That's what I'll be. Not a schemer or a leader, just... a guide. To those who listen to a Word Forging Dragon. To those who can change the history. A guide... of Heroes. Being a dragon I can't intervene in subtle ways by myself, but they can." Ted smiled, even as the flying conditions were getting worse with every second. The name... He finally found his new name.

 _I don't know much about Eternal Champion of Arena, so I'm useless for him, or her, if it's even the time of Imperial Simulacrum, the same goes for the Apprentice and, what was their name again... Soul of Conflict, yes. And fuck the Agent with his Numidium, I'm not getting close to something that erases people from the history. Hero of Dawnstar, even if it's his time, which I doubt, did just fine on their own. Not to mention their task wasn't so important, just like that of, pfff, Master Tunnel Rat. I still can't believe they named him that... And that the final boss in that silly game was a_ prison warden _. Vestige and Cyrus lived long before the Empire of Septims appeared in Morrowind, so there's no need to worry about them. That leaves only the most important trio... the Nerevarine, the Hero of Kvatch, and the Last Dragonborn_.

Ted landed atop of some ancient Dwemer tower. Everywhere he looked he saw ash or lava. Not that he could see far, mind you, by now the ash storm was in full swing. He decided to wait it out. _Yes... It's not yet the time of the Last Dragonborn, since not all of Vvardenfell looks like that. In fact, I believe the story of the Nerevarine is about to begin, possibly very soon, if the presence of the Dwemer puzzle box means anything. Furthermore, I already changed the story, even if not on purpose. There's no way I can put that item back where the player would find it in the game, even the front entrance is tiny, not to mention it's a freaking rotating door made of Dwemer metal, I won't pass them just by hitting them with my head. Ugh, it means I'll have to watch it all the time to make sure I don't miss the Nerevarine..._

Ted sighed and immediately started to cough, since some of the ash found its way into his mouth.

 _Damned ash. I don't know what it is protecting my eyes from it, but it sure doesn't help with the visibility._

"H-hello? Is someone there? Help!"

Ted turned his head in the direction from which voice came. There was someone walking through the storm at the bottom of the tower.

"Hello? Yes, I'm from Erabenimsun, but I promise, I have no ill intentions! I'm a bit lost, do you know which way to go to the coast? Where are you?"

 _Erabenimsun... Not the kind of people I would like to meet. Then again, I'm not the kind of creature anyone would like to meet._

"We are in... Uhh...," _Damn, what was the name of those ruins again? I'm sure there were only one Dwemer ruins in the area..._ "I don't remember the name, but it's the Dwemer ruins to the west from your camp. As for me, I'm on the top."

The figure stopped, surprised both at his words and how well he heard them despite the storm, as if the speaker was right next to him, even though that wasn't the case.

"On the top of what?"

"The tower, of course."

The man looked up and froze. Ted smiled, presenting his sharp teeth to the world.

"Greetings. I am Rotheimaak, the dragon of Red Mountain. And you?"

The Dunmer fainted.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Those of you who have at least six points in Perception in your SPECIAL skillset surely noticed that seven schools of magic were mentioned and that might have triggered some readers that I hoped to push away by throwind a human turned dragon into Morrowind. As most of you know, there are five schools in the last game. In Morrowind there are six - Mystycism disappeared somewhere between Oblivion and Skyrim (I bet Sheogorath had tried modding and ended up breaking the save). I, being a person that treats common sense as an optional ability, decided to apply scientific categorization to laws of magic and in the end I deemed it necessary that Enchanting, which clearly requires some knowledge of the arcane, should also count as a school of magic, even if it doesn't have spells you can use outside of enchanting table. If giving an object magical properties is not a field of magic, then I don't know what is. The other difference from the game are ranks of Ajira and Galbedir. Do you know that, according to game files, bratty Bosmer already is a Journeyman, which makes their bet illogical? That's not all. Ajira, who can give quests that will count into official guild duties, has the lowest rank, Apprentice. I don't know about you, but to me that sounds like terrible organisation. So here instead both Ajira and Galbedir have a rank of Associate, which is just below Journeyman. And one more bit of knowledge for those who for the first time see the term 'Skooma Cat' - it's one of the names Khajiit of Elsweyr have for Sheogorath (the other being Sheggorath). Why Azirra knows the term if she rarely met other Khajiits? Because if you have heard it once, you will remember, for you aren't going to forget something so ridiculous. Why Skooma Cat? Because according to Khajiits nothing is madder than a cat on skooma. If there are other things you do not understand, but you want to learn in a way that won't spoil too much, ask away - my response, even if delayed, will be safe to read.**

 **Let's talk of the plot now. Azirra joined Mages Guild, some of you saw that coming. She will do many quests for them and will stay in their ranks... for some time (nope, that's totally not a foreshadowing, scout's honour). She also met Rabinna, easily one of the most miserable Khajiits in the history of the series. In the game, you could talk to her master Relam Arinith if you were to enter Camonna Tong's hideout in Hla Oad. The guy would offer you to escort his slave Rabinna to a man in Balmora. If you were to try talking with her on the way, you would learn she was too scared to speak anything at all. For a good reason - if you were to deliver her and not interfere, the man would kill her, so that he can get the real treasure - sacks of moon sugar Arinith forced her to swallow. So yeah - even with older graphics and absolutely no gore Morrowind can be more brutal than Skyrim. Fortunately, the solution presented in the fanfic is possible in the game as well. On another note, how do you like Ted's new name? Personally, I love it. It both makes sense and sounds nice.**

 **We're slowly getting to the point in which two heroes meet again. Until next time. Favourite, follow, leave a review!**


	8. Meeting the locals

**Eighth chapter served to you all by moi.**

 ** _Guest_ \- Actually, N'Wah literally means an invader. Dunmers, being xenofobic, racist tosspots, use that word sometimes even if insulting some outlander isn't their priority. Also, do us all a favour and not mention that politician ever again, he already got way more recognition than the likes of him deserve. If he was also a religious fanatic, he would pretty much become incarnation of everything I hate about modern world.**

 ** _The nerd who likes digimon_ \- She sure did. Who would leave behind an enchanted weapon in such situation? Yes, magic from Morrowind, while not perfect, was definitely more diverse than that in future games. Get used to Ted claiming to be someone he isn't just for laugh, he's gonna do that a lot. He has some virtues, but honesty isn't one of them.**

 ** _Lunar Loon_ \- And I thank you for being such a suppostive reader. There's no author in the world that wouldn't like to have such readers.**

 ** _NarutoSpardaUzumaki_ \- Thanks. Pretty soon Azirra and Ted will meet again and both stories will almost fuse.**

 **This chapter will be relatively calm, to make up for a lot of action in the next two chapters. Also, it's shorter - it was cut in half again, since I have no intention of making chapters over 10k words long. Have fun!**

* * *

For one short moment, Azirra felt like she was back home, in Cyrodiil.

Ebonheart was a bona fide Imperial town; Dunmers had nothing to do with its creation. Built right after the old king Llethan opened Vvardenfell to exploration, it quickly became the main seat of power for Duke Dren, the Grand Council, Imperial Legion and Imperial Cult. From this place, the Empire controlled the entire island, both by their military and diplomats.

Speaking of diplomats, there were also two organisations that represented the interests of neighbouring provinces: Skyrim Mission and Argonian Mission, the second of which was the one Azirra had entered few minutes ago.

"Truly, what you did cannot be measured in gold, but please, accept this modest payment from our emergency budget," stated Im-Kilaya, a mage in charge of the mission.

"Normally, I would refuse being paid for helping someone in getting away from slavers, but lately I found herself badly in need of money, so I won't complain." _I'm slowly starting to think it's my sense of value that is messed up, not others, if even he calls it a modest sum_ , thought Azirra. She pocketed the four hundred septims, which, added to the two hundred drakes she had when leaving Balmora and reduced by double charge for a boat ride, gave her five hundred and fifty septims - pretty good.

"You deserve it. It's also a relief that the slaver, who was both a Camonna Tong thug and skooma smuggler, is dead." Oh, yes. On the way to Ebonheart, Rabinna mentioned her former master forced her to swallow a sack worth of packed moon sugar. Once Rabinna arrived to Balmora, a commoner - Vorar Helas - would slaughter her, so that he could take the drugs from her stomach. True story. The boatman almost dropped his oar when he heard that. "We need everyone we can get against this battle with slavery."

"I heard the slavery is legal thanks to Armistice," said Azirra. "And yet so was the ban of exploration of Vvardenfell until the king changed the law. Doesn't that mean the current king can abolish slavery?"

"Not quite. Llethan managed to remove this part from Armistice because he managed to get an approval from the Grand Council. House Dren, which owns a lot of land in mainland Morrowind, was against the exploration, and so was House Indoril, which, being pretty much part of the Temple, owned Vvardenfell back then. The Hlaalu always do what the Empire wants, so it was a matter of convincing the Redoran and Telvanni councilors that they would benefit from this, which they did." Im-Kilaya sighed.

"Then I assume the Great Houses actually like that part of Armistice?"

"It is a much bigger problem. The Dres are obviously against the abolition of slavery, that's the foundation of their plantations. The Telvanni also rely on slaves, so they won't help. The Hlaalu, while supportive of the Empire, also gain many profits from this. The Redoran and Indoril have mixed feelings about it - they both like traditions, but at the same time they know it's their rivals that gain the most from it. Either way, even if two Houses fully supported the abolition, it still wouldn't be enough."

Azirra nodded sadly. She slowly started to feel that her new job, searching for weaknesses of the enemies of the Empire, actually might help people that truly need aid... At the cost of giving Emperor even more power, but after all there are no perfect solutions.

"Well, I guess I'll be going. It's late now and I still need to rent a room at the inn."

She turned around to leave, but the Argonian placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait. There's something else I wanted to say."

"What is it?" she asked, turning around.

Im-Kilaya smiled.

"There's a certain group that is always looking for new friends. Money isn't exactly involved in this line of business, it's more about... connections and doing what is right. You freed a slave and brought her into safety of our mission even though there was no guarantee you would get anything in exchange for the costs you had to pay and risks you had taken."

"It would just feel wrong to do otherwise."

"Which is why I'm willing to invite you into our group. I do not mean the Mission either. The Twin Lamps."

"You are... Awfully trusty for a member of a semi-illegal organisation. For all you know I might actually be a spy for Camonna Tong."

The Argonian snorted.

"They would never accept a Khajiit into their ranks, even if it meant the difference between their success and failure. They treat us as resources, not even tools. Also... I can't explain it, but there's something about you that makes me think you are the kind of person that can actually face impossible odds and emerge victorious. And for some reason I find it easy to trust you... I believe I know why exactly you helped Rabinna."

"Really? Why?"

"You helped for the same reason I helped the first slave I freed. You saw yourself in her."

Azirra remained silent.

"It will never stop, you know. If anything, your desire to help will only get stronger, we're just like that. Every time you see the face of slave with broken spirit, you will be reminded that it could have been you... Then you will remember those you already helped. And in the end, you will realize that you actually can do something about it.

"If you ever meet someone who seems friendly towards our cause..." started Im-Kilaya. The old Argonian (at least his voice gave that impression, she never could tell the age of lizard folk) turned her around and led her to the door. "Ask them 'Have you seen the Twin Lamps?'. If their answer is 'They guide the path to freedom', know you have found one of your new friends. Farewell to you, Azirra the mage. I hope we will meet again."

"Y-yeah... See you soon."

* * *

The first contact with the camp of Erabenimsun tribe was quite tense.

The Erabenimsun aren't friendly even at the best of times. Ever since the previous Ashkhan died, the tribe became very hostile to outsiders. Ulath-Pal, the new leader, was a brute and murderer. Since he came to power, the camp's main source of income were raids and banditry. All of that Ted, I mean _Rotheimaak_ , already knew from the game, so he had shown no surprise when at his approach many warriors pulled out weapons. Even though it was clear they were nervous from meeting a completely new adversary, they were still willing to fight.

" _Drem!_ I mean, peace! I have no ill intentions!"

"As if we're going to believe that, beast!" spoke warrior of great stature. He was a leader - a full set of bone mold armor and the fact everyone else was getting out of his way made it clear. "I may not care about that weakling Han-Ammu, but I'll not tolerate attacks at any of my mer!"

 _Han-Ammu? But that means..._ Ted looked at his legs. _So, I'm holding a future Ashkhan in my claws. Oh joy, that will help my reputation so much._

"I assure you he's fine. He just..." Suddenly Ted realized he couldn't say 'fainted', the Dunmer was already labelled as weak in his tribe. "I saw him being knocked out in a fight with the two Clanfears. I ate said Clanfears and decided to spare your companion."

Ulath-Pal sneered.

"Your lies won't save you, monster." The Ashkhan pulled out an axe and Ted was triggered.

 _I hate those who use fake righteousness as an excuse._

" _Fus!_ "

* * *

"...And that's why your Ashkhan got cut with his own axe," finished Ted in a squeaky voice. He started to fear Manirai, the Wise Woman of Erabenimsun. The amount of attention she paid to him was unsettling. The other tribesmen kept their distance to show some respect, but it was clear they did so only half-heartedly. Ted still couldn't believe he got away with shouting at Ulath-Pal.

"Ah-ha."

"Really, that's all!"

"I believe you."

The dragon would've raised an eyebrow... If he had them.

"You do? I mean, it's possible you would, it's true after all, but I'm surprised you have chosen to believe my _rot_ instead of that of your leader."

"Ulath-Pal wouldn't know how to put on a helmet if it wasn't repeatedly told to him for all of his childhood. That's what happens when a mother accidently drops her baby on the ground. Fortunately for you, he respects strength, so when you proved your words alone are stronger than his actions, you earned some respect and safety from his fellow warriors... for now. As for young Han-Ammu, he's fine... too fine for someone who was attacked by lesser Daedra. It's clear you lied to save his face... Some would find it shameful, but I respect that. I find no fault in your actions, Thunder-Lizard."

"Please, do not call me that. It makes me think of New Vegas and how I'll be never able to see it again. My name's Rotheimaak."

"I'm sorry, but I find it hard to say it, Thunder-Lizard."

 _She's totally doing this just to annoy me_ , decided Ted. _She can say 'Erabenimsun' just fine._

"Since there are matters I wish to speak with you about, I would like to invite you to my yurt... Sadly, you are too big to fit in, so we will have to pick another place to make sure no one will listen."

 _Huh..._

"Do you have something in mind?"

"Tomorrow, just like every week, I will leave the camp and travel to the coast to gather ingredients for my potions. I'll head first north and then east, between two mountains. That's where we will meet, since no one will be able to eavesdrop without us noticing."

"That is fine with me. Now I must be going, it takes some time to find a good spot to rest for the night when you are this big. No offense, but I wouldn't trust your Ashkhan with my life."

"That only shows you are not foolish. Goodbye."

Without another word, Ted flapped his wings and headed towards ruins at which he met the future Ashkhan - it was the safest spot around; no one would reach him there except for some very stubborn Telvanni, but what are the chances of meeting one in the middle of nowhere?

 _The Wise Woman of Erabenimsun wants to talk about something she doesn't want others to find out... with me, the only person she has met so far that can overpower Ulath-Pal._ The dragon smirked. _I think I know what it is about. I have a hunch that that young Han-Ammu will get his chance to shine sooner rather than later._

* * *

Azirra, with an open mouth, looked at the massive construct she was passing.

"That's not what I had imagined when I was told Vivec City stood in the sea."

The Dunmer boatman chuckled.

"Impressive, isn't it? One of the wonders of the world. I bet even Imperial City is smaller, though I was never there to check it."

"It's not. Then again, Imperial City was built on land..." Azirra decided to not mention she only saw the Capital of the Empire once and from the outside - when she was dragged to its prison.

Vivec was truly the strangest city she ever saw. It wasn't a terrain filled with buildings, oh no, that's too boring. This place had shown just how divided Dunmers really were. It was normal that there were rich, poor and middle districts, but when there are NINE districts, many of them created just because political parties wanted to have a part all of their own, then you know your nation has a problem.

Also, the word 'district' doesn't really fit there. It means a fragment of a city without any clear borders. Vivec was built of cantons - massive pyramid-shaped buildings that could accommodate thousands of inhabitants. Most cantons had four tiers - Underworks, Canal works, Waist works, and Plaza, going from the bottom to top.

As mentioned, there was nine of them. Azirra's final destination was the northernmost canton, the Foreign Quarter. It was originally the only district in which outlanders were allowed, hence the name. Directly from there, you could only get by with bridges to Redoran canton. West of there was the Hlaalu, and east - the Arena. Despite the name, it wasn't just a place of battles, both for honor and profit, since it also held many small businesses. East of the Arena stood the Telvanni district. The two cantons to the south were named after the two Dunmer saints, St. Delyn and St. Olm - that's where the poor citizens of the city lived. Even further south was the Temple Canton, devoted entirely to the most popular faith in Morrowind. Finally, at the very end, was the canton that was the reason for city's name - the Palace, the abode of the mortal form of the god-hero Vivec.

And, if all of that wasn't enough, there was a massive object fixed in the air next to the Temple.

"What is the story behind the big hanging rock?"

"That 'hanging rock', as you put it, is called Baar Dau. It's a moon Sheogorath chucked at the city when it was being build."

"...What."

The Dunmer shrugged.

"It's all written down in The Pilgrim's Path. Sheogorath claimed Vivec was built in the mockery of the heavens and convinced Baar Dau to hurl itself at the Temple. The god Vivec stopped it mid-flight. Ever since, it remained there, as a reminder of what would happen if it wasn't for our saviour. Now it serves as a citadel for Ordinators."

The boat stopped next to the flimsy stairs at the side of the Temple canton.

"Here's our final stop. I swim only between Ebonheart and Temple canton, ask gondoliers if you don't want to walk to the Foreign Quarter. Should be cheap, that kind of trip takes only a few minutes."

"Alright, thanks, I'll be... Eeeeek!"

Out of nowhere a hand emerged from the water and grabbed her ankle. The boatman looked in boredom as a head raised above the surface, only to receive a kick from Azirra and disappear again along with the hand.

"What was THAT?!"

"Layman Remond Viralas, I believe. It was amusing the first two times, but not anymore."

Suddenly a Dunmer landed on the catwalk in front of the Khajiit (heh, Khajiit and a catwalk, I'm so clever... alright, I'm shutting up), breathing heavily.

"Another failure?" asked the boatman.

"Actually, I finally did it. Sorry about that miss, I didn't see you from under water."

Azirra scratched her head.

"Just... What was it all about?"

The Dunmer slowly stood up. He was a ginger - that alone was strange amongst his race. The other oddity was how happy he was. Most Dunmers frown even when they don't want to and yet this one was smiling broadly even though he was just kicked in the head. He was wearing a cheap, but nice, long robe. His white (well, mostly white) clothing and title gave her a good clue to who he was.

"You are in the Temple, correct?"

"Not exactly. I'm just a Layman right now. While it may be a rank, it basically means I'm still proving myself by doing the Pilgrimages of the Seven Graces. So, not quite a priest yet."

Azirra walked up to him and removed a string of seaweed he had failed to notice from his shoulder.

"Oh, thank you, outlander. Would be mighty embarrassing if I were to speak with Archcanon with that on me, even if I did just visit the Shrine of Courtesy."

 _...Seriously? The friendliest Dunmer I've met so far and he still uses that annoying term?_ Azirra walked up the stairs, slightly peeved at this.

"So, what's your name? It's not exactly common to see a Khajiit in this canton. Are you here to join the Temple?" asked Viralas, removing the outer layer of his robe and squeezing the water out of it.

"I'm Azirra. I'm just passing by. I wanted to take a walk instead of paying gondoliers. First time in Vivec and I guess I have to get used to walking a lot. I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot of it in the future."

"First time in the city? In that case, allow me to give you a small tour of this particular canton. I've spent a lot of time around here in the last week. Had some trouble with one of the shrines."

It was the second time he mentioned those, so Azirra decided to ask.

"What shrines?"

"The Shrines of Seven Graces. You know, Graces? Honesty, Loyalty, Laughter, Kindness... No, wait, that's not it. Humility, Daring, Generosity, Courtesy, Justice, Valor and Pride. Yes, those. They are all reminders of the times when Vivec taught his people very important lessons. By visiting the Fields of Kummu, the temple in Gnisis, Koal Cave and..." here he shuddered. "...Ghostfence, I've passed Humility, Justice, Valor and Pride. The last three Shrines are here, in this city. I've decided to pass Courtesy first, as it was the last true challenge. Wasn't easy, but I finally did it!"

"Uh... Ok." Right now they were walking towards a small tablet standing in the south-west corner of the temple.

"Oh yes, it was a great task indeed. I had to enter the maze under the Palace and find a way to the very center, where I'd allow myself to drown in the holy water so that I can meet a Dremora at the very end and give it a sword."

 _This religion doesn't make any sense._

"For many days, I tried to find my way to the center, all for nothing. Sooner or later, the water in the maze would rise and flush me into the sea, which represents unavoidable death. But today, Almsivi guided me to the very center and I was victorious!"

"Hey, Viralas!" shouted one of the bypassing priests. "Do you know you could've just entered the third level of the maze and then head for the center?"

Layman froze and for once his gentle smile disappeared.

"And it's NOW that you decided to mention that?! Ugh!" The nearby group of priests chuckled, just like Azirra.

"Doesn't matter. I overcame the maze of life and completed this part of the pilgrimage. And here's one of the last two shrines I've yet to visit."

The small tablet she noticed from before was now in front of them. It was filled with Dunmeri gibberish, so she couldn't read it.

"What does it say? I don't know how to read Dunmeri." Azirra decided to risk adding some fuel to the fire of faith. The young priest in training proved to be amusing so far.

"Its title is 'To stop the Moon'. It speaks the story behind Baar-Dau. You know it?" he asked, excited, clearly wishing he could praise Vivec's name some more.

"The boatman told me on the way."

"Oh." His sad look said it all. He perked up almost immediately, though. "Anyway, in order to receive a blessing of the shrine, one has to offer a Potion of Rising Force. I happen to have two of them, since I've taken one to avoid being flushed this time... Except I've forgot to drink it on my way out, when the level of water increased. Want to try it? I've heard it's a wonderful blessing."

"Er, no, thanks. Go ahead, knock yourself out."

Remond Viralas knelt in front of the tablet, placed a potion in front of him, and started to pray in silence. After several seconds, Azirra decided it simply wasn't worth it and she should leave the man so he can worship his god in peace.

She didn't even make ten steps before a shout broke the silence.

"This... Is... AMAZING!"

She turned around... but Remond was nowhere to be found. She looked up and opened her mouth in shock. The young priest was levitating in the air and doing swimming motions, as if he was still in the water.

"This is epic! And Pa said it would be boring to be a priest!"

* * *

If one were, for some reason, to take a walk across the Azura's Coast somewhere around the eight in the morning, they would encounter a bizarre sight - an Ashlander woman talking to a dragon of all things.

 _I so called it!_

"So... You want me to _krii_ the Ashkhan Ulath-Pal and his three Gulakhans: Ahaz, Ranabi and Ashu-Ahhe."

"Yes. As long as 'krii' means kill."

"It does. One thing makes me wonder though. You are a Wise Woman of Erabenimsun, your main task is to aid Ashkhan in leading the tribe. Why do you want him gone?"

Ted of course knew very well the reasons, but he had to play along. He might get away with showing some knowledge, but not all of it. The possibility of Daedric princes learning something from what he had already said so far was already too big. He must be more careful in what he tells and what he merely thinks.

"Aiding Ashkhan with my wisdom is my mission indeed, but it's not possible when he is a fool and violent killer. Ulath-Pal twisted this tribe into nothing more than a group of bandits. If I will allow this to continue, a false god will send Ordinators, or the outlander ruler will attack with his legions. However, as long as our current Ashkhan and his three supporters are alive, Han-Ammu, the only peaceful Gulakhan will never become the new leader. Even if they all die, he might not be willing to accept responsibility. We need something... special. Like the help of the Thunder-Lizard."

Ted snorted.

"For the last time, it's..."

"I know. There's a legend however that tells of your arrival."

The dragon froze.

"Legend?" _Please, don't let it be a prophecy!_

"The prophecy says..." _Damn it!_ "...That in the age of miracles, a great Thunder-Lizard, whose voice can tear the sky asunder, will arrive, bring prosperity to the people of Erabenimsun, share his wisdom with our Ashkhan, and give our people a great gift."

"...That's it?" _It was... surprisingly clear as far as prophecies go._

"Yes. Perhaps it is a real prophecy. Perhaps not. But you fit. Erabenimsun under Ulath-Pal strayed from the way of our ancestors, but it's not easy to remove old beliefs. If the four troublemakers were to disappear and both me and you were to say Han-Ammu should lead, they will listen.

"...That also means I'll have to give Han-Ammu some important lessons. Easy enough, I know exactly what to say. Now it raises the question of payment."

Manirai crossed her arms.

"I do not know what a being such as yourself would want in exchange, but know that whatever it would be you would be also regarded as a friend to Erabenimsun and will be seen as a hero and trusted spirit. You would always be welcome to join us at the campfire."

"Sounds nice, I like to celebrate from time to time... and I do know what exactly I want. It would also fit with the last part of the legend." _Oh, I'm such a genius._

"Really? Do tell."

"The legend says that I will give your people a great gift. How about a champion to your people? How about... The Nerevarine?"

Manirai's eyes widened.

"You know of the foretold hero that will unite this land and defeat all its foes?"

"I do. I am a son of _Bormahu_ , Time itself. I see past, present and sometimes even the future." If Ted's bullshitmeter wasn't broken, it would be overloaded right now. "The time of the Nerevarine is near, I know this. But the task ahead of them... Their prophecy is a great challenge. 'Four tribes will call him the Nerevarine, three Houses will call him the Hortator.' Just that part alone is hard to fulfill. I wish to lessen that burden. I'll find the Nerevarine and when I do, Han-Ammu will name him, or her, _Kaal_ , a champion of your tribe, without any more trials and tasks. This will be my gift and payment at the same time."

The Wise Woman gave him a long stare. Ted managed to show no emotion, even though he was slightly nervous about her answer.

"You asked for a lot, Thunder-Lizard... But so did I. All four warriors are strong and fighting them won't be easy. If you will win, then I will trust that the person you will give to us as the Nerevarine will be indeed worthy of such honor."

"Then we have an agreement. Now, how should I go about defeating Ashkhan and his supporters? If I attack him openly in the camp, he might choose a coward's way out and order his warriors to attack me. The tribe would no longer respect me if I were to kill many of them." _Not to mention I would end up as a dragon jerky._ Whether it's Nords or Dunmers, it's never good if the entire population attacks you with God Mode disabled.

"That can be solved in two ways. One, you will attack him when he is away from the camp, which is often. Two, you will challenge him in the presence of many. The first option gives you more options in which way you can attack and dispatch of him, but the second one will win over the people of Erabenimsun if you should succeed."

"I see... I'll have to think about it. I won't keep you any longer from gathering the ingredients, Wise Woman of Erabenimsun." With a flap of his wings, Ted lifted into the air. " _Pruzah Nir!_ That's the closest thing we dragons have to a goodbye."

"Farewell, Thunder-Lizard. Until our next meeting."

Manirai left for the coast and Ted flew north, towards the Grazelands. Today he decided to hunt down some kagouti; 'hunt down' being used here in quite broad sense (yes, he intended to land on one, shut up). To be honest he was glad he had to eat only once a day... but what a portion that was! Furthermore, he was never truly hungry - he suspected dragons were a lot like T-Rexes in that regard, as in they could stuff themselves with meat and then go on without food for days.

 _Looks like I'll be fixing Erabenimsun's problems in place of the Nerevarine. That's fine. If only I didn't have to kill several strong fighters... They might prove troublesome._

 _Let's see... If I remember correctly, Ranabi is a noob that goes down in one hit if you put enough strength into it. It gets messy only if you allow him to cast spells. The others are tougher. The one with shiny, enchanted armor is strong, but mostly because of said items. The Ashkhan and his bodyguard are really tough and they are always together, so I would have to fight both at the same time._

 _Of course, if I were to get a jump on them or fight dirty, I would easily win. You can't beat something that is always out of your reach. I would have to learn some shout first though, can't kill them with Fus alone. Fire breath is iconic, but not the best choice against Dunmers. That leaves only Frost Breath... No, wait, I have a better idea._

* * *

Masalinie Merian smirked at the Khajiit that just teleported in front of her. She was floating.

"Shrine of Daring?"

"Shrine of Daring."

"Friend Azirra, you're back!" said Ajira from behind her desk. She looked very relieved. "When you didn't come back from the swamp, Ajira started to think something terrible had happened! Are you alright?"

Azirra nodded.

"Yes, I am... sorry about the first person. But something terrible did indeed happen. Azirra got jumped by an overeager slaver." Azirra chuckled at Ajira's terrified look. "Don't worry, this one doesn't think he's going to enslave anyone ever again." _Mostly because he's dead._ "Then Azirra had to ride a boat to Ebonheart so that she could drop a freed slave at the Argonian Mission. By the way, Ajira owes Azirra forty septims just for teleportation from the Guild Hall in Vivec."

The alchemist nodded sadly.

"Ajira thinks it's reasonable. Does Azirra have the mushrooms?"

The protagonist pulled a small sack from her backpack and placed it on the desk. Both she and Ajira immediately sneezed.

"If Ajira will say those are wrong 'shrooms, Azirra will never refer to herself in third person."

"No, they are correct. Thank you. Here, take these my friend." With those words, Ajira gave her four healing potions. "They are not very effective and the taste is terrible, but Ajira is still learning. Should be good for minor wounds. Handy in travels, yes?"

"I'm sure soon they will be of great use to Azirra," stated seriously Azirra, slowly realizing that it was about time she visited Caius Cosades, the Spymaster. The suspense was killing her every time she thought about her unknown mission. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad and she's just worrying about nothing. Either way, she had to find out just so she could focus on a specific danger, not some mysterious threat. "Say, is there a mage in any guild hall that sells really good Destruction spells? Malven Romori at the Vivec branch said she had some really good ones, but her services are for those of at least Conjurer rank."

Ajira started pondering.

"There are two wizards that have Destruction spellbooks in Caldera, but Ajira thinks you should go to Ald'ruhn instead. There's a really good Argonian mage there, he sells many strong spells. But before you go, are you interested in more work?"

"Oh, I'm not going there yet, there are still some things I have to take care of in the city. What work are we talking about?"

Ajira smiled.

"Ajira and Galbedir made a bet about who will first reach the rank of Journeyman. While the winner will get some money, what Ajira really wants is just to beat Galbedir," said Ajira in a quiet voice, to make sure other mages wouldn't hear.

"Yes, this one heard something about the bet."

"Ajira does what she can to advance, this report about mushrooms is one of her biggest chances. But it never hurts to slow down your rivals, yes? So Ajira has a small job for Azirra, not an official one, no, no, a tiny task for a fellow Khajiit."

 _A tiny task for a fellow Khajiit_ , thought Azirra. She smirked. _So it's about stealing._

"Soon Galbedir will come down there to talk with Marayn Dren about something. In the meantime, Azirra will go upstairs to Galbedir's workplace and swap her soul gem with the fake one Ajira has. Will you help, friend?"

Azirra frowned slightly.

"Doesn't it count as serious theft? I might be expelled."

"Only if Azirra is caught by Galbedir herself. Everyone else here dislikes her, so they would ignore Azirra. And Galbedir won't catch Azirra, because she will be here, talking with Dren."

There's such a thing as the Khajiit Code. Basically, it claims that Khajiit should go wherever they please and take whatever they want that isn't bolted to the floor as long as no one sees. Azirra broke the Khajiit Code way too many times in the last few days, the biggest example being that damned unguarded room full of shinies back at the Census and Excise Office in Seyda Neen. It was time to make up for it.

"I'm in."

"Good, good. Here's the fake soul gem. And remember, it's all about Galbedir thinking nothing is wrong until the gem goes boom when she tries to enchant something with it. So please, Ajira knows it's a lot to ask, but don't steal anything else. Azirra can keep the real soul gem as payment."

 _Oh well, the Khajiit Code can wait one more day._

"Fine. Let's get started."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Looks like both Azirra and Ted are making more friends. Twin Lamps, Wise Women, random priests... Speaking of random priests, if you are trying to pinpoint where was he in Morrowind, don't bother. I know that I said I don't like making up characters, however I realized it could be useful in showing more questlines - Azirra is not going to be in more than three factions at once (at least for the sake of realism), which means I wouldn't be able to show any interesting quests from other groups. Besides, let's be honest - if the Nerevarine wouldn't show up to do all those quests, someone else would. They will remain supporting characters and will appear only from time to time, so don't worry about dividing the plot.**

 **It was possible to join Twin Lamps in the game... Kind of. They were never listed in your factions even if you did and there were hardly any quests. I still don't know how much will Azirra interact with them, but as you can see she's at least friendly. Also, Ajira's quest with replacing the soul gem doesn't count into 'official' guild business - in the game you could advance in rank if you were to did it, but not here, Azirra's not getting any points for that.**

 **It appears that Ted is making a speedrun, sneaky cheater. The quest he is about to do is a part of the main questline. In other words, he's making the way for the Nerevarine ahead of the time.**

 **Well, that's all for now. In the next chapter, we will see how goes a fight with Erabenimsun, Azirra will receive her first mission from Caius Cosades and those of you who read this far without buying the game will be introduced to the main antagonist.**


	9. Killing the locals

**Here we are, in the ninth chapter. It appears I have already a nice group of readers that always comment, that makes my really happy.**

 ** _The nerd who likes digimon_ \- Well, let's find out, shall we?**

 ** _Guest_ \- Believe it or not, it is. There are worse names, trust me on that. There's a cave called 'Milk'... It even happens to be connected to a quest for Redoran House - long story short, local lord went mad from grief and started to attack travelers, while the cave itself was his base of operations. The quest was called 'The Mad Lord of Milk'. I don't know what the developers where taking when they were making the game, but I want some of that too. xD**

 ** _Mehrunes Dragonbro_ \- No power in the world can change my update rate - floods, wild fires and the wrath of demons shall not affect me! My university and parents, sure, but nothing else. xD**

 ** _Lunar Loon_ \- Tedious Job can't kill my Muse, my Muse will kill the (Ted)ious Job with a minigun. The only danger is that something will entertain me much more than writing itself, but no worries, my reserve laptop can't keep up with gaming world, it's my stolen original laptop that was the source of entertainment. Research, yes, I do it. I like to think I know a lot about lore, but I trust collective knowledge of uesp wiki much more. For this chapter for example I searched for info about Hasphat Antabolis, Caius Cosades, Fighters Guild, The Sleepers Awake quest, Erabenimsun Nerevarine quest, Erabenimsun warriors, 'The War of the First Council' book, ****Blade trainers and spells vendors.**

 ** _Its your Uncle bourbon_ \- ...If your next review will be even shorter, I won't bother to respond. Just saying. Please, don't answer with 'ok'.**

 **Get ready! Azirra receives her first mission and makes preparations, while Ted/Rotheimaak confronts Ulath-Pal. Hopefully it will live up to your expectations.**

* * *

After succeeding in swapping the two soul gems, Ajira told her she had no more work for today and to check tomorrow or the day after. For the soul gem, being of lesser kind, Azirra got eighty-five septims from Ra'Virr, and for the iron boots scavenged from the slaver she got one hundred sixty. Finally, she decided to speak to her new superior, since the blessing had worn off and she was no longer a spectacle wherever she went (the moment could be better, she was at the time hanging upside down, but she was used to Divines making fun of her).

Since she was wearing her simple traveling clothes, no one paid much attention to her on the way. Despite this, our heroine constantly had a feeling of being followed. Since on the walk from the hall of Mages Guild to Caius' house she noticed no followers, she decided it was just her paranoia at work. She knocked on the door, which opened almost immediately.

"Come in. Don't forget to close the door."

After doing what she was told, the Khajiit faced Caius, who happened to stand in the middle of the room, just like most of the time she first met him. Absolutely nothing about the place was different. If she didn't know better, she would think he was standing here all this time, just waiting for her to report.

"You weren't followed?"

"If I were to notice someone trailing me, do you think I'd be even here?"

"True. Since you are here, I assume you are ready for your first mission?"

Azirra smiled weakly.

"I don't think I'd ever be truly ready for this, but I might as well start it now. I feel a bit more confident than before."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm guessing the other Blades told you something about how they began." Was that a small smile? "Don't worry. Unlike you, the other Blades in Balmora were already experienced when they were recruited, so their orders were more demanding. You will have an easy start... I hope so."

"'Hope so'? You truly lifted my spirits."

"That's enough of small talk. Novice, attention!"

Azirra straightened up. _Jeez, now he is a drill sergeant._

"We will start with simple information gathering. The area of interests are two secret cults: the Nerevarine cult and the Sixth House cult. Have you heard about either of those before, Novice?"

"No, sir!"

"...That was just a small joke, don't shout so much, we're spies, not soldiers."

Azirra relaxed and glared daggers at the amused Cosades.

"As long as you remember who your superior is and act with some respect, you don't have to be tense all of the time when talking with me. Feel free to ask questions, within reason. I want to make sure we understand each other. Is that clear?"

"It is. I have a question then: what are those cults? Some Daedra worshippers?"

"No. I already gathered some information from my sources, but it's not exactly satisfying. Your task is to find a better intel. In this city's branch of Fighters Guild works a man named Hasphat Antabolis. He trains people in athletics, blocking, and hand-to-hand combat, but that's not important to you. What does matter is his hobby: history. He might know what we need."

"How should I act?"

"It's not the first time I need to consult an expert. We have a simple system for that. If we want to learn something from an informant, we must do them a favour. Hasphat doesn't owe us anything, so when you ask him about the two cults, be prepared to do something in exchange for info. Unless he will demand something outrageous, which I doubt, I expect you to take care of it on your own. I'm not going to hold your hand all the way."

Azirra nodded slowly.

"So, I must ask about the Nerevarine and the Sixth House cults, do him a favour and come back?"

"Pretty much. That reminds me something... Here, take these books." He pointed at two tomes on the table. Azirra glanced at the covers.

"'Guide to Vvardenfell' and 'The War of the First Council'?"

"Make sure to read them in your free time. The first one is a gift from our agent in Seyda Need, scout Elone. The other is from me. You can hardly be a part of history if you do not understand it in the first place."

"Will do. If that's all, I'll be... Wait, I just remembered. You mentioned there's a Blade agent in Ald'ruhn."

"Correct. You're going there soon?"

"Yes, I was told mages in that branch sold nice Destruction spell books."

"In that case, meet with Gildan, our spy in the Redoran district. If you will stand on the staircase leading to the local temple and face east, it will be the first house to your left. Don't forget to tell her our password for new members."

"I'll remember. Goodbye, Spymaster."

"Good luck, Novice. Hopefully you won't need it."

* * *

 _That wasn't so bad_ , decided Azirra on her way out. She took a good look at her surroundings, however the street was as empty as when she arrived. She put on the hood of her coat and went in the direction of the river. _Looks like this whole mission won't be actually dangerous. I doubt a historian can give some hard task._

Suddenly, someone blocked her path and Azirra, surprised, took a step back. It was a poorly dressed Dunmer. He seemed... distant. He was looking at her and yet it seemed as if he wasn't even quite there. In his right hand, he held a torch, even though it was noon. He looked relaxed, even lost in thoughts, and yet the young mage had a feeling she would be more confident if he held a sword, as long as he wouldn't look at her like that. Over his arm, Azirra noticed a figure in bone mold armor, who was looking at the two of them with attention. She noticed people like him before on the streets and assumed those were city guards. She returned her gaze to the Dunmer in front of her.

"C-can I help you?" For some reason the absent look of that mer was scaring her.

" _At the lonely hour of midnight, I fly, when stars are weeping. Beneath the echo of souls, my spirit sleeping._ "

Azirra took another step back. Never in her life had she been so creeped out by a single sentence.

"...What?"

" _It is the Hour of Wakening. He comes forth in his glory, and his people shall rejoice, and his enemies shall scatter like dust._ "

"G-get away from me, madman!"

For a second, the Dunmer stood there in silence. The guard placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and headed in their direction.

" _My starkest madness seeming is divinest sense,_ " said stranger in the end. " _Come! Grasp the chain and prove you're sane!_ "

"What's going on here?" asked the guard, warily eyeing the Dunmer.

"I don't know, he just walked up and started to speak like that!"

" _You must leave_ " Distant look in stranger's eyes diminished and for once he seemed to actually notice the Khajiit. There was a shadow of a frown on his face. " _Leave while you still can. For when Lord Dagoth shall come from the Red Mountain to cleanse this land, all outlander taints in His holy land shall perish._ "

And finally, to Azirra's relief, the man left. The Khajiit and the guard followed him with their eyes, until he stopped at the edge of the river and remained there, unmoving.

"What was that?" asked finally Azirra, hoping the local knew more. As it turns out, he did.

"That was a Sleeper. There aren't many of them, but just the presence of one is disturbing."

She frowned.

"What do you mean by 'Sleeper'?"

The guard sighed.

"He wasn't always like that. I knew the guy. Rararyn Radarys was a commoner, a normal miner. One night he left his house and started walking the streets with the torch and continued to do so even when it burned out and the day came. He has been around ever since. The only reason he's alive is because the concerned priests from the Temple feed him by force, since he doesn't even eat on his own anymore. He also never sleeps... or maybe I should say he always sleeps. People like him are called Sleepers."

 _And just when I thought this couldn't get creepier_ , thought Azirra with terror.

"How is this possible? Is this some sort of a curse?"

"That's what the priests say. And they can't even do anything to help - Ordinators in Vivec once tried to take one of them to the Ministry of Truth so that priesthood could try to heal them, but they just died on the spot, without any known reason. They aren't dangerous, at least they haven't been so far, they are just... absent. So, our policy is to keep an eye on them, but not attack unless they turn hostile." The guard looked her straight in the eyes... or that's how it looked, no way to tell for sure with a full helmet. "Sleepers in Balmora have never spoken to anyone before, though I heard those in different cities sometimes did. Always a warning to outlanders and an... invitation to Dunmers."

"Invitation to what?" Azirra was almost too scared to ask. That was daedra level of dread right there.

"You are new in this land, aren't you? He did mention Dagoth Ur and if that name doesn't explain everything to you, then you must be."

"My third day in Vvardenfell."

"...You've picked a bad time to come here, Khajiit. Well, I guess you should know some things. Dagoth Ur was once a mer, mortal, and a friend to the Tribunal, who at the time were mortal too. He betrayed them however, and, just like Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec transcended into godhood by their good actions, he obtained dark powers by his act of evil. Now he is the enemy, the Devil under the Red Mountain. From there, he poisons the sky with his ash storms, kills people and livestock with the Blight and taunts those of weaker will with his false visions. The Sleepers are his prophets and the Dreamers, more violent and barbaric servants, are his hounds. Finally, his corprus beasts. Bodies of those with corprus are twisted beyond recognition and they lose mind in the process. Be careful, Khajiit. Bandits are no longer the worst thing you can meet in the wild."

And with those words he left, as if his single purpose in life was giving Azirra nightmare fuel.

* * *

No number of septims could lift Azirra's spirits after her talk with the guard. Even the money she got from selling the slaver's iron cuirass (she decided to keep the boots, greaves and short enchanted sword), which amounted to three hundred septims, couldn't keep her from worrying about the fact she was living on the island that was a hunting grounds of an evil incarnate. With almost nine hundred coins in her backpack, Azirra bought a number of items that would be necessary in the life of an adventurer mage: a very detailed map of Vvardenfell, a tinder-box, a pen, a bottle of ink, an empty book for a journal, lockpicks and probes (it appears that Ra'Virr truly had everything she could ask for), some chalk. And rope. You can never have too much rope.

After buying said essentials, our heroine entered the building of Fighters Guild, which happened to be right next to that of Mages Guild, as it often is with those two organizations in many cities. Right after entering and turning left she found herself in a tiny hall with staircases leading for higher and lower levels. There were two people nearby, both sitting on the crates in the corner. One being a Redguard man in common clothes, the other petite Breton woman in a set of... some sort of light armor, making it the third type she had not recognized since her arrival to Vvardenfell. She really had to learn more about the local culture.

"Welcome, adventurer!" greeted her Redguard. Azirra smiled - at last, someone looked at her and the first thing they thought was 'adventurer'. Maybe, given enough time, she will even convince herself she is one. "Looking for an Equalizer? Something to give you an edge against a superior opponent? When you need to do a lot of damage in a hurry, my poisoned blades are both trusty and not too expensive."

"I have a blade of my own, it even has an enchantment," noticed Azirra, pointing at the scabbard at her side.

"Really? Can I see it? I like to compare the craftsmanship of my own weapons with others."

"Sure." Azirra pulled out the sword and handed it to him.

"An iron shard blade? Not bad. Frost enchantment is a good choice, as long as you do not plan to fight Nords. The blade itself is pretty well made, although it could have been better. Really nice weapon, for an iron one that is. As long as you know how to handle it, you can deal a lot of damage with this. Have you paid a lot for this?"

"Not a single septim. A certain thug decided a single Khajiit in the middle of nowhere would be an easy target."

The Redguards grinned.

"Now that is the kind of person I like."

Azirra gave him a little smile. While she was now more or less at peace with what happened yesterday, she still wasn't willing to go around and talk casually about killing people.

"If it's not the blade you need, perhaps are you here for armor or training? Or maybe you are in the Guild and are searching for some work? If that's so, ask Eydis upstairs."

"I'm looking for a trainer. I was told there's one that teaches athletics, blocking, and hand-to-hand combat at the same time." Azirra decided earlier that it would gather less attention if she were to ask about her informer as if she didn't knew his name.

"You're looking for Hasphat Antabolis. Go downstairs. At the end of the corridor is a training room. That's where he usually is at this time."

"Thanks. See you later, I have a feeling we will make some trading from time to time."

* * *

"So, you are with Caius... Very well then, I assume you know the rules. I'll help you if you will help me."

Hasphat Antabolis, the Imperial drillmaster, was a man of short stature, but with enough muscles to make up for it in battle. Unlike most of the warriors, however, he had a spark of great scholarly knowledge visible in his eye.

The massive book about the history of the Reman dynasty was a good clue as well.

"What kind of help do you require?"

"As a historian, I'm interested in the relicts of ancient civilizations. The Dwemers are of particular importance to me, since their achievements still remain mostly unknown. Recently, I learned of the existence of a certain object. I'm very curious about this... Dwemer puzzle box, as my source calls it. I wish to study it and you will deliver it to me."

Azirra nodded calmly, although she was already getting worried. Things like that couldn't possibly be easy to obtain.

"Where is it?"

"In the ruins, nearby. Getting there and back again shouldn't take you much time. They're called Arkngthand."

"..."

"Don't look at me like that. All Dwemer ruins have strange names. Anyway, the box itself should be a cube the size of a fist, maybe a little bigger. One side is covered in circular symbols and the others with lined marks. It's made of dwarven metal, like almost all artifacts of the Dwemer."

"Is there anything I should know about the ruins?"

"Deeper levels may contain some Dwemer constructs, be very careful with those. I doubt you will have to get so deep though. According to the text I found, such items should be in a chamber close to the entrance, some sort of security protocol, so that it could be easily accessed. Oh, one more thing. Some of the legionaries at Moonmoth Fort warned me there might be a band of smugglers or bandits in the area. I doubt they are in the ruins itself, that would be stupid even for bandits given the dangers of Dwemer cities. It would take a stupidity of an orc berserker to live in such a place. Nonetheless, keep your guard up."

 _Lovely._

"Are you alright? Your eye is twitching."

* * *

With a sigh Azirra collapsed on her bed in Balmora's Mages Guild, tired, but at least with some hope about the incoming mission.

After her talk with Antabolis, she used the Guild's teleportation network to travel to Ald'ruhn. Terrible place. All she saw in her brief visit was an ash storm, which made the simple task of finding Gildan very difficult. Normally it would take a two minute walk to her house, but the search was just annoying when sand found its way into your ears, eyes and nose. At least she got something out of this – a fellow Blade taught her how to cast Far Silence, the perfect spell if she had to face a mage (it would take away the ability to cast spells only for ten seconds, but she figured it was enough time). Gildan seemed shocked when she got the spell right at her sixth try. Azirra had no idea what was so strange about it, the spell seemed simple enough to her.

Argonian Heen-La had a great selection of spell books, just like Ajira told her. At first, she thought she could afford only two of them and there wouldn't be much gold left. However, she had the smart idea of selling him books from which she learned Poison and Poisonous Touch. While they were no longer so valuable with used up enchantments, she still gained four hundred septims from that. She bought Greater Shock Ball and Sleep, which with the fee for a return to Balmora lowered her fortune to four hundred and sixty septims, but it was worth it - with those two spells she could tire out and hurt her enemies from a distance, making them vulnerable in melee. It didn't hurt that she heard the Dwemer constructs were weak to shock.

She sighed and pulled out both books from her backpack and opened them. After the short rush of knowledge came to a stop, she put them away with the intention of reading them in the morning - while so far she was very lucky and managed to learn every spell just with the enchantment, these two seemed more complicated and she would rather not take any chances.

That left her with two other books to read before sleep - 'Guide to Vvardenfell' and 'The War of the First Council'. The choice seemed obvious to her. She stretched and sinked deeper into the quilt as the words of an ancient historian told her the epic story of kings and gods... Nah, just kidding, it was boring enough to serve as a lullaby.

 _"The War of the First Council was a First Age religious conflict between the secular Houses Dwemer and Dagoth and the orthodox Dunmer Houses Indoril, Redoran, Dres, Hlaalu, and Telvanni. The First Council was the first pan-Dunmer governing body, which collapsed over disputes about sorceries and enchantments practiced by the Dwemer and declared profane by the other Houses. The Secular Houses, less numerous, but politically and magically more advanced, and aided by the Nord and Orc clans drawn by promise of land and booty, initially campaigned with great success in the north of Morrowind, and occupied much of the land now comprising Redoran, Vvardenfell, and Telvanni District."_

Azirra looked in exasperation at the book. _Caius has some rather poor taste in literature._

 _"The Orthodox Houses, widely dispersed and poorly organized, suffered defeat after defeat until Nerevar was made general of all House troops and levies. Nerevar secured the aid of nomad barbarian tribesmen, and contrived to force a major battle at the Secular stronghold of Red Mountain on Vvardenfell."_

Khajiit yawned. _Gods, this bed is so soft..._

 _"The Secular forces were outmaneuvered and defeated with the help of Ashlander scouts, and the survivors forced to take refuge in the Dwemer stronghold at Red Mountain."_

Azirra yawned again. _I guess I can finish it tomorrow..._

 _"After a brief siege, treason permitted Nerevar and his troops to enter the stronghold, where the Secular leaders..."_

* * *

The time has come.

Ted... No, Rotheimaak. He should get in the proper mindset. _Thinking like a mortal is not going to help in this clash_.

It was six in the morning, right after the sunrise, when one of the scouts of the tribe came running from the south. A few minutes later, Ashkhan and two of his followers left the camp, probably to squeeze money out of some unfortunate wanderer. Rotheimaak, who at the time was silently observing the location from nearby mountain, smirked and took to the sky.

 _I would recognize the armor anywhere, that's Ulath-Pal. That means the Dunmer in normal clothes is his bodyguard. The third must be Ranabi, he wears the robe of a mage. Three out of four thugs that need to be put down... That would make things so much easier, but it won't be too easy. All three are good at fighting and three high level characters were enough to kill a dragon in Skyrim... The Shout should even the odds, I'm really glad I picked it._

The dragon pulled his wings into his sides, initiating a dive with a mad smile on his face.

 _I love this attack. Why didn't they include it in the game?_

* * *

"Incoming!"

Ahaz's shout was the only warning Ulath-Pal received, but it was enough - at the last possible moment he threw himself behind a nearby rock. Instead of arrows, however, it was a giant lizard that hit the ground in his former position. Ashkhan growled.

The massive beast humiliated him in the middle of his own camp. Ever since then, he was looking forward to fighting the monster... on his own terms, that is. Facing him in a duel was a bad idea - even if he were to ignore his enemy's unknown magical technique, it was clear who could overpower whom. As a result, up until now, Ashkhan was forced to stay his blade and wait until the opportunity presented itself to attack him in group, when no one was there to witness it, lest he would lose his honour.

"No! How could I've missed?!"

 _It appears that the spirits of the ancestors favour me today._

"Kill the beast!" he ordered.

The lizard faced them and took a deep breath. Ulath-Pal instantly recognized the action and braced himself, placing his feet far apart to resist the wave of energy.

 _You won't get me twice with the same attack, s'wit._

" ** _Iiz!_** "

A layer of ice covered his body and Ulath-Pal realized with terror that the enemy wasn't a one-trick guar. Judging by a yelp behind him, Ranabi also got caught in the blast, however Ahaz managed to jump to the side. This was followed by his charge with his enchanted axe, however it wasn't meant for the Ashkhan to witness the fight - despite being literally frozen in place he slowly tilted backwards and fell.

Ulath-Pal put his entire strength into breaking from the effects of the vile sorcery. Once he managed to do so, the first thing he saw was a collapsing Ahaz, with a big chunk of his left arm missing. Ashkhan scowled, roared in fury and rushed at the monster.

His axe, the War Axe of the Erabenimsun, with ease cut through the scales of his enemy, just like any weapon made of malachit should. The Thunder Lizard growled and, not paying any attention to the danger, attempted to bite off the Dunmer's head. With a quick dodge, he found himself near the beast's throat and he took a swing, which the dragon sadly managed to avoid. The enemy looked at him with bloodshot eyes, snarled and... turned left?

"Where are you going, I'm not finished with... ARGH!"

That fetcher... That damned fetcher slammed him with his tail.

Ulath-Pal stood up and ran to aid Ranabi, who had just started to bombard the lizard with every single spell he knew. The beast hissed in pain and took to the air, quickly leaving the Ashkhan's reach. He wasn't complaining - he used that moment to cast Vitality, slightly increasing his adrenaline, so that he could ignore more pain. The spell caster rushed to Ahaz's side and shook him.

"He's unconscious, what should we do?!"

"Leave him. He won't survive with a wound like that anyway. Better cast some spells on yourself before it returns."

The lizard suddenly appeared above the mountain range. Ranabi sent several weak fireballs in his direction, but it failed to stop the dragon. The claws found their target and the wizard cried as he was lifted into the air. Ulath-Pal watched hopelessly as the monster flied higher and dropped his companion. The Ashkhan gnashed his teeth as the body hit the ground.

"Stop killing my men already and face me, coward!"

* * *

Rotheimaak leered at the screaming Dunmer far beneath him. Fortunately, this time he managed to stay in control of his senses during the battle, although for a second he slipped - he couldn't afford fighting like an animal, not with these warriors.

Killing two supporters was easy enough, both physically and emotionally. They might have been strong, but he was even stronger and the first Dunmer forgot that, simply trying to overwhelm him, which proved to be his great mistake. Ranabi was annoying. The stronger spells hurt him, but not wounded. He decided that attacking two elves at the same time was stupid, so he ended up using the advantage of flight to remove him from the equation before the last enemy could take action.

Had he faced them on the very first day, he would have perish without a doubt. Not only had he lacked any skills back then, he also wasn't ready mentally. Now, however, it was a different story. He might not be a master of combat, hell, probably any other dragon would kick his ass, but he understood his strengths and weaknesses. He had to fight, because there was no other option. Even if he spared Ulath-Pal today, he would have to kill someone in defense sooner or later... He already DID kill someone in defense. Not to mention the Ashkhan was doomed to die anyway - if not because of him, then because of Nerevarine.

Rotheimaak focused on his last opponent.

 _Let's end this._

The dragon dived and the Dunmer froze, waiting for a moment to strike. Ted was now flying more or less on his level, just above the ground, with the intention of grabbing him the same way he captured Ranabi. He closed the distance, reached out with his back legs...

The plan was sound. It's a shame he had done it once already, and the Dunmer expected it.

Rotheimaak roared when the glass axe hit him in the foot with maximal force. He lost his balance and slammed into the ground a few meters away from the warrior.

 _That was stupid of me_ , thought Ted in a daze. Suddenly there was the sensation of a pressure on his back, quickly approaching the head. His eyes widened in panic. _He's on me! No! Not the finishing attack!_

With the armed Ashkhan so close to his neck, Ted came up with only one way of defense. It wasn't complicated. It wasn't subtle. It wasn't impressive. It wasn't even a true defense. But it could work.

He just rolled over on his back.

 ***CRACK***

And so ends the story of Ulath-Pal.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I just can't freaking write fluent fight scenes. Argh.**

 **Before I'll get to plot discussion, let me point out Gildan gave us absolutely nothing in game when you asked her for help, just like two other Blades that weren't mentioned in the story so far. Instead they were recommending you people who could be useful. Gildan would recommend Wayn... In other words, the guy Azirra talked with at Fighters Guild. Agent from Caldera would tell you to check out Llaros Uvayn in the same town (she's selling a lot of useful spells, so it's actually a really good advice). The last guy, who lives in the middle of nowhere, would recommend, wait for it, Galbedir. Yeah, the brat from the Guild, one of the most annoying characters in the game (I have a feeling Azirra will give her some serious thrashing at one point just because I'd love to see this). Sure, she has some nice scrolls, but seriously, at this point you probably already met her on your own. Also, the fight with Erabenimsun warriors in the game was much simpler than what Ted did - since he was a dragon he couldn't just walk into a tent and best each of them in a one-on-one combat.**

 **So... Now we all know what is the purpose of Dwemer puzzle box. Heh. Sorry to dissapoint you, Skyrim players, that's just a simple fetching job. Well, if diving into a Dwemer ruin and fighting bandits when you are on the first level counts as a simple job, that is.**

 **The Sleepers awake! Normally you would have to first finish the quest for Antabolis before they appeared, but I decided I might show them already. More confusing, yes. More frightening, definitely. And that's the point. Both Skyrim and Oblivion failed to creep me out just by putting a strange dude in the middle of the city, but not Morrowind. Somehow that old game managed to do what newer ones couldn't even with better graphics.**

 **Ted defeated Ulath-Pal and two of his companions, leaving only one man standing in the way of pacification of Erabenimsun. Ted is overpowered and useless at the same time - sure, he managed to learn one word of power by meditating an entire day, but when it comes to the fight itself he topples over faster than Mirmulnir. The thing about guides is that usually they aren't best at fighting and at least for now Ted is no exception - being a dragon gave him a victory, but that's all he has going for him. Furthermore, there's still one more person he has to beat and chances are this time he will have to actually play by the rules - no dropping your enemies from the sky, no freezing your opponent, no crushing hugs. Winning this way is not going to be easy for him.**

 **The next chapter... The next chapter! Prepare yourself! This is going to be Azirra's and Rotheimaak's greatest challenge so far. Either will they both show the world what they are made of... or die trying.**


	10. Epic quest for epic loot

**Wow, it's ten chapters already? Not bad.**

 ** _NoSkillzOnlyHax_ \- I cartainly do not mind long reviews, that's for sure. xD Sure, Dwemers deserve more... and they kinda do get more, they played quite an important role in Dagoth's schemes. At one point developers even planned to have a quest in Morrowind that, while still focused on fetching, would be much more interesting than what Antabolis asked for - the player was supposed to steal the schematics of Numidium, artificial god-machine of Dwemer, from the citadels of Red Mountain. Sadly, it was cut out of the final game, though there are still codes left in the game... Why does Bethesda always cut out the best content? And no, Ted isn't going to become so overpowered anytime soon - he prefers to rely on cunning rather than brute strength. For many chapters he won't even bother to learn more than one word for most shouts.**

 ** _Mehrunes Dragonbro_ \- I know how that feels - both the urge to play after reading a good fanfiction and, sadly, also the inability of playing. Don't worry though - unless your PC doesn't have 2 GB of RAM, you should be fine as long as you don't use graphics mods. Since Morrowind is 14 years old, most computers will run it without much problems. All of that is pointless though if uni steals our entire time, whether we want to play or write. : (**

 **Here we go.**

* * *

Ashu-Ahhe frowned. For a second he thought he heard a distant roar, but after few seconds of silence he shrugged and returned to polishing his enchanted armor.

For a moment, everything was silent... That actually made the greatest warrior of Erabenimsun pause - there was no sound, as if the entire camp out of nowhere decided to hold their breath.

And then the very earth under Ashu-Ahhe's feet shook. The Dunmer grabbed his trusty sword and rushed outside.

That lizard, Rothsomething, was right in front of him, looking down with squinted eyes and bared teeth. The warrior silently cursed the fact that he didn't have his Mountain Spirit armor on. The beast looked hostile. Fortunately, he misread the signs. Kind of.

"Ashu-Ahhe!" roared the monster. "I have learned of your misdeeds! You dare to call yourself a warrior when you are willing to hurt defenseless and weak! Those like you are the reason other tribes look down upon yours!"

Anger flared within the Dunmer's heart at those insults. At this point, the roaring dragon had gathered a crowd of tribesmen, who looked at him with either resentment or strange, expressionless faces. The warrior made a mental note to have some serious talk with the last group. Now, however, he had to protect his honor.

"How dare you to say that about me, the most powerful of all Erabenimsun?! Your lies will cost you your life! I challenge you to battle to the death! Refuse and you will forever be seen as a coward!"

The dragon smiled deviously.

"You can't challenge me, little mortal! You can't... because I challenge YOU! We will settle this on the crossroads north of the camp at noon. Prepare yourself, for I do not intend to lose."

Ashu-Ahhe harrumphed and returned to his yurt. Rotheimaak continued to look at the place in which the warrior stood before, however his scowl slowly changed into grin. Manirai, the Wise Woman of Erabenimsun, walked up to him.

"Are you certain you can beat him, Thunder-Lizard? He is a powerful opponent."

"No. But I can't wait to find out." The dragon looked at her. "I have a request, Wise Woman. There's something that we need to convince Han-Ammu to accept the responsibility of leading the tribe. Three objects of power, three symbols that would let his _Zii_ soar. I obviously cannot bring them myself, not with limbs like these." Rotheimaak moved slightly his massive wings. "I'm afraid you will have to bring them instead."

"I hope they aren't too far?"

"No. Go south, and you will soon understand what items I was talking about. Please, hurry. We need to have them before my battle with Ashu-Ahhe ends."

* * *

Even Azirra's parents wouldn't recognize her right now... That is, if they knew her at all in the first place.

Her legs were covered by iron greaves, which proved give solid protection. Making a hole for her tail was a last-minute feature she came up with - fortunately most cheap armors, like this one, had pelt in place of metal when it came to this particular area, so she could take care of it herself. Her torso was protected by steel cuirass and on her head was a matching helmet. The armor was quite heavy; however, it wasn't as bad as she expected. Whoever made the last part clearly didn't have a Khajiit in mind - there was a space for her ears, but only just enough. The rest of her body was clothed in her set of traveling clothes and at her hip rested a scabbard with an enchanted iron sword.

To put it short, she felt dangerous. She liked it.

What she didn't like was the sun. Her armor got even more annoying after it was warmed by its rays. Fortunately, if the directions provided by Hasphat Antabolis were correct, she didn't have to worry about it for much longer. She already passed a crossroad, and to her right stood the imperial fort. She could see the big Dwemer bridge at the top of the hill she was currently climbing.

 _Wow, those dwarves sure could build well... A few thousands of years and it's still standing._

The outside of the Dwemer ruins was in a much poor condition. While the entrance itself was well preserved, the surrounding pipes and two towers where in bad shape. One of them even partially collapsed near the roof, showing some of the interior, though most of it was still hidden in shadow.

Azirra had a feeling she wasn't alone. A big splotch of dried blood in front of the entrance clued her in.

 _This mission keeps getting better and better._

The Khajiit looked around. From what she was told about this particular type of the door, the revolving one, was opened by a lever near the entry. Soon she noticed it on a nearby pipe and pulled. With a screech the door started to open. She walked inside.

There wasn't much to see at first. Just a long, broad ledge with a big cavern opening to her left, some crates near the entry and a pipe on the wall. It was kind of a letdown. The door closed behind her on its own.

"What was that?"

Azirra froze. Of course, there would be bandits, why wouldn't there be any? The Khajiit quickly casted the only disguising spell in her repertoire, Shadow Form. To her relief, it worked - her body shimmered and changed colour to fit the surroundings just before a Nord entered from the opposing end. Judging by his lack of armor, they weren't actually a bandit, but still a shady character... A smuggler, yes, that must be it.

"Strange. I thought I heard the door open."

 _Oh, thank you Divines!_ It was dark enough for her to remain unnoticed even only with her rather weak spell. The Nord shook his head and sat on the edge, looking at the cave below. Azirra frowned. Could have been worse, but it's still not too good. How much longer would her disguise remain? Twenty seconds, maybe less? She had to take the smuggler down now, when she could still surprise him.

She took a silent step towards the man. A second. Third. Several more. She was now halfway. Another step. One more.

 ***clang***

The Nord jumped to his feet at the sound of her cuirass connecting with greaves and Azirra cursed. With the element of surprise gone, she sprinted over to the criminal just as he turned around. Before he had a chance to draw his weapon, she kicked him in the nuts. The Nord leaned forward and, too focused on total atomic annihilation occurring in crotch area, he failed to defend himself when the Khajiit grabbed his shoulders and pushed with all of her strength, sending him over the edge.

 ***THUD***

Azirra looked with an open mouth at what was left of the Nord smuggler at the bottom of the cave.

 _Did I really do all of that? I... I never thought I could be so... awesome._

"Cristus?! Oh no..."

Another smuggler appeared in her field of view, this time an Imperial. He immediately looked up to where his ally used to sit and spotted her.

"Intruder! You will die where you stand!" screamed the man, and he ran to the other end of the cavern, where a primitive set of stairs made of boulders started and led all the way to the ledge. Azirra breathed in and out.

 _Just take aim and fire. That's all._

Azirra extended all her fingers and pointed at the incoming Imperial, sending a Greater Shockball in his direction. There was no way for him to dodge, since it was aimed at his feet and it was a spell with area effect. The Imperial fell on his knees screaming in pain, clearly not used to magical damage. Azirra wasted no time and ran down the stairs while at the same time pulling out her sword. Without any hesitation, she raised it above her head and slashed. And again. And again. And again.

...

When the body of the man joined his friend at the bottom of the cave, Azirra could only look at herself covered in blood.

 _Third_ , she thought with strange calmness. _That's the third man I have killed._

After few seconds of thoughtfulness, she put the blade back into the scabbard, not bothering to clean it. Chances were it would be only dirtied once more soon enough.

Once she reached the end of the stairs, she found herself with a dilemma. There were not two, not three, not even four, but _five_ possible paths for her to take. Three doors were under the ledge and one more on higher level, to the left. She could also go down the corridor right next to the stairs, further away from the exit. Antabolis said the puzzle box was probably near the entrance, but there were two problems with that. One, it was _probably_ near the entrance. Two, she didn't know what stood for 'near' when it came to Dwemer ruins.

In the end, she decided to try as close to the entrance as possible, with the higher door. Jumping from one rock to another she reached the middle platform, grasped the handle of the door, and peeked in.

The room was small, with some sort of machinery in the middle. There were shelves in two corners and a table in the third. Most of the space was taken by several barrels and crates. Also, on one of them was sitting a man.

He was an Imperial in the age of fifty. He was ahead of his companions when it came to defense, since unlike them he actually wore a cuirass, and an iron one at that. Azirra tensed - there was no chance he missed her. And yet... He seemed oddly... Unresponsive.

"Hello?" said Azirra, surprised at the lack of reaction.

"If you want to kill me, outsider, just do so. Better you than the dragon."

Azirra once again allowed any potential nearby fly to visit her mouth.

 _Dragon?! He saw it?! It was real?!_

"D-dragon?"

"Yes. He appeared three days ago on this mountain when it was my shift on the bridge," stated somberly smuggler. "He shrugged off my spell as if it was nothing, so I escaped down there. I haven't left the room ever since. The other men didn't believe me, but at night, one of them tried to escape. All for nothing, the beast was guarding the exit. Ever since then, we have been stuck. Well, at least now the rest don't think I went senile."

 _Three days ago... The day I saw a dragon myself. Could this be the same one?_

"The dragon is no longer on the mountain."

"I'm not going to risk my life just to find out if you are honest," grunted the old man.

"I'm not lying. I did manage to get in here, right? I wouldn't if he was still out there."

This caused his glassy look to suddenly sharpen.

"You... You are right. There's no chance you would manage to get past it unnoticed, so you must be saying the truth!" A broad smile appeared on his face and he jumped to his feet. Azirra took a step back, unnerved by the sudden mood swing. "There's no time to waste! The way may be open right now, but who knows if he'll return? I'm leaving right now, when it's still possible."

Azirra blinked as the Imperial passed her.

"Won't your boss get angry?"

"No worries, the dragon ate my boss. Thanks for the news, adventurer."

And he was gone, just like that. Azirra scratched her head.

"This land doesn't make any sense. Dragons, giant fleas, hanging moon, friendly thugs..."

The Khajiit decided that, since there was only one entrance to the room, it was the perfect situation to do some looting. She placed a big crate right next to the door to alert her to any new enemy and started to look for a small cube... And any shiny things worthy her time. Who said she couldn't have some additional profits?

* * *

The dragon and Dunmer eyed each other with contempt. It was clear that one of them would die on this day, even if the battle wasn't actually officially to the death. The other tribesmen sat on the nearby hills. Some of them wanted to see how the strange beast would get owned. Others were hoping the huge predator would be the one to tear his ambitious enemy apart. Between the two combatants stood Han-Ammu - being the only other Gulakhan in the camp at this moment meant he was to serve a role of an arbiter. Mind you, the only thing an arbiter does in the duels of Ashlanders is declare the beginning of a fight, mark its end and, from time to time, drag away the winner from the mutilated body of a loser.

"Are you both ready?"

Ashu-Ahhe said nothing, giving a silent confirmation.

"There's something I wish to say first," requested Rotheimaak. Han-Ammu nodded to show his permission. The dragon looked at his enemy and loudly, so that the others would hear as well, he said his part, "You are the last of the war loving Erabenimsun. I have confronted your former Ashkhan, Ulath-Pal, and forced him to leave this tribe and to never return. He fought, but in the end, he and his two companions had to accept my ultimatum. Once I beat you, peace and prosperity shall return to the tribe and a new, wise Ashkhan will be chosen to lead it... We live in the age of miracles and one is about to happen today. Brace yourself, Ashu-Ahhe, for now you will face the son of _Bormahu_ , Rotheimaak, dragon of Red Mountain, which your tribe calls Thunder-Lizard."

Now, when everything was said and done, Han-Ammu nodded once more and took a deep breath.

"Begin!"

* * *

Nothing. No cube in sight. Antabolis was wrong, she had to go deeper.

Azirra sighed. Although more searching meant more loot, it also meant more danger. She had already filled half of her backpack with Dwemer metal, coins, tubes, bowls, mugs, pitchers, goblets (she was SO going to drink from one of them for the rest of her life, she was sure of it). She also packed a strange device, which was small but heavy. At first, she wanted to take a Dwemer cog too, but quickly changed her mind when she attempted to lift it. From non-Dwemer loot she had some red powder, which more likely than not was an alchemic ingredient of some kind.

With the room emptied in the way only a Khajiit truly is capable of, Azirra left the chamber to continue her search. After walking down the 'stairs' she faced a row of three doors.

"I guess the one to the right is closest to the entrance."

After passing through, she discovered it led not to a room, but a corridor. To the right was another door and to her left, crossroads. She decided to try her luck with the potential chamber first.

Too late occurred to her that if there's one thing she couldn't afford to trust, it's her luck. As soon as she put her hand on the handle, she was electrocuted and fell to her knees.

"ARGH!"

The door opened from the inside.

"Guys, I told you, no one enters my room without... Huh? Oh, that's rich, a little burglar got caught on my simple trap!"

Out of nowhere, the tip of a Dwemer spear pressed against her nose. Azirra froze. _What to do, what to do..._

"Let's see... Is there any reason for me to not kill you on the spot?"

 _Got it! Spears are deadly when piercing, but useless otherwise!_

"I guess not... Too bad for y..."

Azirra thwacked the tip of the spear aside with a fast movement of her hand and closed the distance. The Imperial woman never stood a chance in such setting, especially with her lack of armor and other weapons.

The Khajiit grabbed the body of the smuggler and leaned her against the door to block them, doing her best to ignore the blood at her hands.

"That makes it four."

It was another room, this time with a pillar in the middle and machine in the back. A short search revealed the puzzle box wasn't there either. Her loot slightly increased in value, especially in Dwemer coins.

Just as Azirra decided that another strange device was too heavy to steal, something collapsed on the floor behind her. Knowing there was only one possibility, she whirled around and hit with a Spark another smuggler, who was just stepping over the dead body of his comrade. He groaned, but ignored the pain and charged her with a short sword in hand. Azirra pulled out her own.

She was disarmed in three seconds.

"Stupid cat. You think everyone here's deaf?" asked the Nord, pointing at her face with his blade. He thrusted, she dodged. He planned for her dodging too.

Azirra grasped her ear. There was now her blood on her fingers too.

"I will tear off your skin!"

The mage rolled aside and cast Poison at point-blank. The Nord hesitated and for a second, withheld his pursuit of a new rug when a wave of nausea hit him. Azirra, not feeling confident enough to attack the bear of a man with her claws alone, ran out of the room. The smuggler stood up straight, roared at the disappearance of his enemy, and jumped out of the door to pursue her...

Except that the Khajiit, instead of trying to escape, picked up the spear from the fallen enemy, hid herself behind a jam, and ambushed him from behind. For a second, the thug stood there, looking at the spear poking out of his chest, while Azirra, terrified by the fact he was still standing, let go of the weapon and took a few steps back.

"No... No, you can't be still alive, you bastard!" shouted Azirra at him, scared to death.

His only response was to slowly turn around and make a step in her direction. The blood was spilling from his mouth, but eyes were focused on her.

Azirra started to shake and cold dread immobilized her. She started to struggle only once two massive hands tightened around her throat and lifted her in the air.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She clawed at the arms, but with no success. In the middle of her darkening vision were two eyes, filled with murderous intent. Soon that was all she could see.

So, it was them that she attacked.

An already dead Nord fell on the floor, followed by a Khajiit who one second earlier jabbed his eyes with her long claws.

* * *

Ted was having trouble.

Despite wearing almost a full set of armor (which was also enchanted, mind you), the Dunmer proved to be a difficult target. He was always moving, never stopping for more than one second. The bastard must have realized Ted's main attack while on the ground was a powerful bite, so he made sure he could always move away. A single hit from his steel sword was too weak to truly hurt the dragon, but a dozen of them posed a certain risk. So far, with the exception of a few scratches, the warrior was fine, while Ted was slowly getting tired of this game.

The protagonist earned another jab to the snout, and decided enough was enough. With a flap of his wings, Rotheimaak moved just enough to be out of range of Ashu-Ahhe.

"What is this, do you forfeit the duel?" asked the Dunmer with amusement in his voice.

"You are indeed a strong warrior, Ashu-Ahhe. You recognized what is my most powerful attack on the ground and did everything to avoid it. I honestly applaud you for that," said the dragon calmly. "Do not think however you have the upper hand. Until now, I have been merely judging your _Mul_ , strength, and reflexes. A proper clash begins now."

Rotheimaak landed with a heavy thud and immediately attacked. Just as he expected, Ashu-Ahhe jumped aside to avoid what he expected to be a bite. Instead of moving his neck away from the warrior, however, he did the total opposite and rammed him with the side of the head. Once the Dunmer was on the ground, the dragon breathed in.

" _Iiz!_ "

TheErabenimsun tribesmen gasped and some even started to demand cancelling the match over Rotheimaak's treachery, however, Han-Ammu, who had his own reasons to resent his fellow Gulakhan, decided to ignore this for now. Besides, instead of attacking, the dragon merely watched with a cruel grin as the warrior was doing his best to free himself from a layer of ice. Once he managed to do that, Ashu-Ahhe just sent his opponent venomous glare.

"What's the matter? You were toying around with me before, it's only fair I get to do the same."

The Dunmer screamed at his enemy's arrogance, not aware that while Ted indeed was finding it hard to find a way to hurt him a few seconds ago, a short break allowed him to take his time with preparing a strategy. It was then that Rotheimaak realized that when on the ground, he simply couldn't get close enough to the agile fighter. The solution was simple - he just had to make the enemy come to him.

Ted stood up on his legs, his serpentine neck far out of Ashu-Ahhe's reach, but with his belly exposed. The Dunmer noticed an obvious weakness and charged.

 _He fell for it! Now's my chance!_

Rotheimaak dropped his wings to the sides, making it impossible to jump aside, and tilted his body onwards, making his intentions clear. The Dunmer stopped for a fraction of a second, and, with wide eyes, turned around to do his best to escape. He almost did. If only he had recognized the dragon's plan a bit sooner...

A falling dragon slammed into Ashu-Ahhe's back like a locomotive, denting his armor and sending the warrior flying. All spectators fell silent, now absolutely certain what will be the outcome of the clash, for the Erabenimsun combatant dropped his sword during collision and didn't even attempt to rise. Rotheimaak leisurely approached his enemy. The events of the next few seconds remained in the memory of the Erabenimsuns until the end of time.

The dragon opened his jaw wide, ready to take a good grip on the mer.

"Send me a postcard from Messer!"

Ever since that day, the enemies of the Ashlanders would hear in their fights one more battle cry.

It was "I'm gonna send you sky high!".

* * *

Azirra was getting sick. That last smuggler was problematic, but except for him, all of the enemies were dropping like flies. Was it always so easy to end someone's life? Did she have... a talent for this?

It was a scary possibility. She could only hope her newfound skill was simply a result of being fed up with people trying to kill her.

By the time she recovered from shock, her ear stopped bleeding, so she decided to just cast her only healing spell instead of drinking a potion. After reclaiming her blade, searching two dead smugglers for any valuables, and taking a spear with herself (she decided it was easier to use than a sword, no fencing skills necessary), she followed the corridor, turned left, and opened another door.

She was back in the first cave.

"...This place is just stupid."

She turned around and went down the unexplored corridor.

After several minutes of walking she decided the whole place was a small maze. To be honest, she was getting antsy - the fact there were no longer any enemies in sight unnerved her and she started to worry she was deep enough to encounter Dwemer constructs.

"You will DIE!"

 _A smuggler! What a relief!_

The Imperial woman was a terrible fighter. Her only weapon were throwing stars. Needless to say, in the end, the spells proved to be more dangerous and Azirra was victorious once more.

"This is getting ridiculous" she said to herself while walking towards a door at the end of a very long corridor. "I've never fought seriously in my life and yet I'm taking down this crime den all on my own. True, they are all scattered and fight me one at a time, but come on, either Nocturnal is on my side today or anyone can be a smuggler nowadays."

The door opened and two men entered. Azirra grimaced. _Obviously, that happens when I get too cocky._ One was a Redguard and the other a Breton. Both were holding daggers and seemed quite surprised. At this point, the poor Khajiit was so fed up with everything she doubted she could even muster any objection against killing them.

"What? An intruder? Here?!" shouted the second.

"Strange. We were guarding this side, there were two men in the main cave and at least two people guarded the other side..." said Redguard. "How did you get this far?"

"Others are already dead, even that massive Nord," informed Azirra.

"You're lying, nobody would get past him..." answered the Breton. "But... if you didn't... then how do you know of him?"

Two men exchanged worried glances and rushed at her. Azirra cast Sleep at the Redguard, slowing him down slightly, which caused Breton to close the distance faster than him. Azirra, instead of making a predictive move of thrusting her spear at him, dropped her weapon, grabbed his wrist and used Fire Bite.

"AIIIIIIIEEEEEE!"

Azirra punched the man in the stomach and slashed with her claws across his chest, only to be hit by the other one on the head. Fortunately, her steel helmet saved her from instantaneous death. Azirra pointed with her hand at the Redguard and cast the strongest of her Destruction spells, Greater Shockball.

Sadly, she forgot it had an area effect.

All three screamed when an electric charge coursed through them and they collapsed. To Azirra's annoyance, the spell puffed up her fur, revealing its greatest drawback for Khajiit mages.

The Redguard, being in the best condition of all three combatants, shook off the effects first and grabbed both of her hands, making it impossible for her to cast spells. The next course of action seemed obvious to her - she bonked the enemy with her head. She had a helmet, he didn't, the result was obvious. Azirra sent an angry glare at the Breton and let me tell you, there's a good reason why this specific look is called the Eye of Fear.

If the smuggler ever doubted her ability to best all other sentries so far, he had none anymore.

"No, wait! I give up, I give up!" He tossed his dagger aside and lifted his hands above his head. "Don't kill me, please! I have a wife and children to feed!"

Azirra looked at him skeptically. The man happened to be one of the unfortunate few (or lucky, if you look from the Dunmer view point), whose face would scare away even cliff racers.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, but one day I might want to have them!"

She truly had enough of the ever-present stupidity.

"Get lost."

The Breton smiled in relief.

"Thank you, thank you!" He turned around, ran through the door, and turned right, disappearing from her sight. Azirra sighed, packed the weapons of her enemies, picked up her spear, and walked into the next corridor.

To her right were stairs and ahead one more room. She nodded. Hopefully it would be the correct one. Her backpack was almost full at this point.

* * *

"Han-Ammu, step closer. I have many important things to tell you."

The last Gulakhan of Erabenimsun approached the legendary Thunder-Lizard, who with ease dispatched of the strongest warrior of the tribe. Now, when they all gathered around the big campfire to feast in this evening hour, the magical beast promised to give them a great lesson. Next to him stood the Wise Woman, who shockingly was smiling - something young Ashlander never saw in her case. As strange as it looked, he moved his gaze to the guardian spirit of Erabenimsun.

"For many years, this tribe was suffering. It lacked a leader worthy of his title. Ulath-Pal decided to build your prosperity on the suffering of others. In the end, it would only bring _Oblaan_ , an end to your people. The world is out there, standing in front of the yurt of Erabenimsun. You can either invite it on your own rules or wait until it forces its way in. But that is a worry for another day. For now, we must rejoice. Only one problem must be still solved today - a choice of the new Ashkhan. I spoke with the Wise Woman and we both agree that it is your destiny."

Han-Ammu lowered his head.

"That is a great honor you give me, Thunder Lizard, but I'm afraid I'm not skilled enough to be an Ashkhan."

The wise beast smiled.

"Right now you aren't. That's why I'm going to teach you how to be a good Ashkhan. Manirai, bring the first artifact."

The Wise Woman pulled an amulet out of a small bundle she held.

"Han-Ammu, son of Airan-Ammu, do you recognize this object?" asked Rotheimaak.

"I do. It is the Sanit-Kil's Heart of Fire that belonged to Ahaz."

"It is a symbol, and symbols have power. This amulet represents the fire burning in the hearts of all Erabenimsun. Courage isn't about not being scared, it's about facing your opponent even if you are scared. Remember this and you will never fail to fill your men with the hope of victory. Take the amulet as the only Gulakhan of the tribe."

Ashlander did as he was asked, while Manirai picked up another item.

"Han-Ammu, son of Airan-Ammu, do you recognize this object?" asked again the magical being.

"Yes. It's the Robe of Erur-Dan the Wise that belonged to Ranabi."

"That, too, is a symbol. This robe represents the wisdom of a leader and your ancestors. True wisdom comes not with age or magic, but with the ability to tell right from wrong. You know this distinction and so you are wise. Everything else you need to know you will learn like every other Ashkhan did - from your elders, from your Wise Women, from your ancestors, but most importantly from your heart. Take the robe as the only Gulakhan of the tribe."

He once again accepted a gift and Manirai pulled out the last item. All present tribals held their breath.

"Han-Ammu, son of Airan-Ammu, do you recognize this object?" asked Thunder-Lizard for the third time.

"...How could I not? It is a war axe of my father, which Ulath-Pal took after his death as a sign of leadership."

"Then you already know what this symbol means. The War Axe of Airan-Ammu, the War Axe of Erabenimsun, it shows the strength of the tribe. For a long time, it was misused. Now you have a chance, no, a duty, to fix the wrongs and protect the weak. A single mer can't do much, but Erabenimsun is not just a single mer. As long as he remains faithful to his brothers and sisters, a leader wields not just his own power, but also that of all his kin, both alive and from the afterlife. Han-Ammu, son of Airan-Ammu, take the axe of your father and become the Ashkhan this tribe needs."

Slowly, as if he couldn't believe it was happening, young Ashlander took the axe. Tribals called out in the language of their ancestors, Dunmeri, that outside of special occasions wasn't anymore used even by the Wise Women. That, however, was such occasion.

"Han-Ammu, you are our Ashkhan from now on," said Manirai, giving him a small bow. " _Osuhn hari khan!_ "

Everyone repeated those words after her and, since it concluded the official part of the feast, everyone shifted their attention to the campfire, upon which they were preparing meat.

* * *

"Thunder-Lizard, we have a tradition in our tribe. If we invite a guest to our feast, they have the honor of singing the first song, which is one of their choice."

Ted blinked.

"A song? I... I don't really know any fitting songs..."

"Please, Thunder-Lizard," added Han-Ammu. "I am sure someone as wise as you knows at least one."

"...Very well. There's one song... the Song of our Saviour, the one that comes and is close. The one I intended to introduce to your tribe when their time comes... The one you call the Nerevarine."

Just like that, he again had full attention of the tribe once more. He cleared his throat.

"Now, it's been a long while since I last sang, so don't judge me if it isn't so great, not to mention the song was only meant to be accompanied with music. Either way, here it is."

The dragon took a deep breath. _It's a damn shame there's no orchestra playing the game's theme in the background right now._

He started.

 _Morrowind calls to me,_

 _Begs me to abandon fears,_

 _Come by fate and_

 _Wipe away our tears._

 _His people wait for that day..._

 _And I am still afraid._

 _I count days in my grief,_

 _Then you will arrive here._

 _With great care, you hold my hand,_

 _Giving me the strength to survive._

 _And you look somewhere far, whispering_

 _'My people are scared'._

 _House's cry, Curse's sign,_

 _Tribunal's hidden lie._

 _Morrowind calls to me_

 _And I'm no longer afraid,_

 _For I know, when it's me and you,_

 _I can make_

 _Our dreams come true._

 _Our dreams..._

 _Will come true._

There was a short silence once he was done.

"You were right, Thunder-Lizard," said Manirai finally. "It does sound as if it should be only sang with proper music. Either that or singing just isn't your talent."

 _Why was everyone always saying that?!_

* * *

There was no cube. More coins, some books, other Dwemer junk, but not a single damned cube! Azirra felt like murdering someone, preferably Hasphat Antabolis.

Furthermore, her chances of finding it decreased with every chamber she searched for, leaving less possible places for hiding. After leaving the room and climbing the stairs, she found herself again in the main cave. Now there was only one passage left to check - the door in the middle.

Azirra approached it slowly and pulled out a probe. She wasn't going to risk a second electrocution. In the few seconds, she confirmed there was no trap in the door and entered. To her disappointment, it was another corridor. She walked over to the opposite end and checked another gate with the probe. This one was clear, too.

She silently opened the door and sneaked inside. It was a small room with four columns and three desks in the middle. Two more corridors led away from there, one to the right and one ahead. She stopped.

There were three people standing in the first corridor, fortunately with their backs turned to her. Three men, a Nord, an Imperial and a Breton. The first had an axe, the second a bow, and the third was probably a spell caster since she noticed no weapon on him.

"Snowy Granius is still sitting in the storage?" asked the Breton.

"Yes. He was there for the last three days," answered the Imperial.

"Kinda makes me wonder where he takes care of his private business," added the Nord. The two others looked at him. "What? I can't be the only one thinking about it. Unlike us, he doesn't have a convenient lava lake to shit into."

A drop of sweat ran down her forehead. One average enemy she could face... If she had a good plan to quickly dispatch of one or they were incompetent she could even risk fighting two. But three? No, that was too much. Time to retreat, maybe hire someone to accompany her... Yes, that would work, a promise of loot and a good payment up front. Alright, now she only had to...

 ***clang***

 _...Why?!_

"Intruder!"

"Don't let her escape!"

"I'll drink mead from your skull!"

Azirra yelped and jumped behind a desk to avoid an arrow. She peeked to check the situation and almost immediately had to hide again, this time from a fireball, but in that short moment, she noticed that the Nord was charging at her from her right side, cutting off her escape route to the surface. She couldn't fight either, not with such numbers, and the two other smugglers remained in that corridor, so...

She ran towards the other corridor, as far away from the Nord as possible. Another fireball exploded behind her, making her gasp - the tip of her tail was now on fire. But that wasn't the worst part.

It was a dead end... Kind of. Instead of a wall there was a _small. Lake. Of. Lava_. There was nowhere to run... except maybe a causeway hanging over the deadly fluid. It would be a long jump, but she had no choice. She dropped her spear. All or nothing.

She jumped.

She soared.

She grabbed an edge.

A smile. She would get away.

Pain. Agonic pain that almost made her let go of her only chance of survival.

With great difficulty, she pulled herself up onto the ledge. A fireball zipped over her head. She had to escape.

She tried to stand up, but the pain in her leg intensified. She fell.

"Irbran, I can't jump that far!"

"You don't have to, Liore got a hit! Now it's just a matter of time. Come on, people! We must check up on others, she couldn't get this far without taking some of them down."

Steps, slowly dying down.

Silence.

...

Azirra, with unspoken suffering, found enough strength to crawl deeper into the abandoned corridor, out of sight. Once there, she reached with her hand first to her tail to put out fire and then to her left knee.

Thank gods, it was fine. The arrow hit slightly above. She pulled it out.

The tip was covered in a green fluid. Her breathing quickened. She threw the arrow away and removed her backpack. With a shaking hand, she reached inside, but had a problem finding the correct object. She started searching more desperately. She knocked over the backpack, spilling the treasures all over the place, but her eyes were only on several glass vials. She uncorked one and drank the content, not minding the bitter taste. She grabbed a second and a third. Fourth one followed, but she was barely conscious. She dropped the fifth one before she could lift it to her lips, her arms going numb.

 _I really need to buy some potions_ , was her last thought.

Her world went dark.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Should I change rating to M yet? In my opinion violence is nothing special for teenagers these days and battles described here don't really make me flinch. Some blood in a story is not going to trigger me.**

 **In the game, there were twelve smugglers. One outside, three in the first cell, two in small rooms, three in the corridors and three in the area with lava. Ted obliterated the boss and a battlemage left without a fight, so that left Azirra with ten opponents. To make up for it these last three enemies received an upgrade. It's a damn shame her luck failed her at the very end, now she's going to die in the depths of Arkngthand. Either way it was all for nothing - puzzle box was no longer in the ruins.**

 **Ted, you had one job! Just one! And you still blew it by roleplaying as a dragon sage in the wrong part of Vvardenfell!**

 **Osuhn hari khan - according to the unnoficial, fanmade Dunmeri language, it means "We have an Ashkhan". Notice that Ashlanders usually don't refer to themselves with their most popular name, that's what settled Dunmers call them. Tribes most of the time refer to themselves as Velothi, people of prophet Veloth, who brough them to Resdayn, or Morrowind, as we prefer to call it (other names for the province, depending on the era, are Dwemereth, Veloth and Dunmereth).**

 **As for the song... I was searching for some really nice lyrics to Morrowind's theme, but sadly english side of the fandom failed terribly, shame on you. Surprisingly, it was polish community that had supplied a pretty good text. The song in this chapter is a rough translation of Greedo's version. You can find the covers of the original on Youtube, if you are interested. They're quite well singed and by several different people too. I prefer the version of Panna Nat.**

 **Speaking of failing... Looks like I'm about to fail in bringing a chapter next weekend. Sorry, but in this semester I started learning Japanese on uni, I have even less free time than I used to. There's a chance I'll finish on time, but don't hold your breath. To cheer you up, know that in the next chapter will be a long awaited meeting. Until next time.**


	11. Escape from Arkngthand

**Chapter number eleven. Sorry for one more week of waiting, my beta needed more time. By the way, this story had already passed 2,000 views milestone and jumped to the top ten fanfics with Nerevarine in all three rankings - followers, favourites and reviews. Thanks a lot guys, that puts a smile on my face.**

 ** _Pietersiele_ \- Well, looks like you are about to see her reaction to Rotheimaak, since the time has finally come.**

 ** _Guest_ \- I simply write how I would progress if I found myself with their skills in their situations, that is assuming I wouldn't make a fool of myself even more. As for the sentences, I am quite proud of those two. The first one sort of came up on its own without much thinking, it just felt right. As for the second, I realized the possible outcome of a Khajiit mage casting such spell long time ago, but only then I had an excuse to use it.**

 ** _MehrunesDragonbro_ \- The best joke is the one you don't expect. It works even if the joke itself is overused. Even I didn't know what was about to happen until it did happened. xD So I didn't do such a bad job at the descriptions of fighting, good to know. Don't say sorry for big reviews, I love those.**

 ** _NoSkillzOnlyHax_ \- Nah, the helmet bash only knocked him out. And sorry for the delay, but I have little control over this. I have to share the computer, which usually means I have no access at all until the weekend. If you want to help, track down the thief that stole my own and gently ask him to give it back. :)**

 **Let's get started, shall we? I'll do as MehrunesDragonbro suggested and just warn you this chapter contains a brutal execution and other acts of violence everyone likes to read about.**

* * *

This must be what Molag Bal's victims felt like when he was done with them… Except they also had sore asses.

Azirra returned to the world of the living, but pain, while no longer as terrible as it was before, still accompanied her. Everything was slightly blurred. Azirra groaned and suddenly felt a rising bile in her throat. She turned her head left and threw up.

The vomit was green.

Khajiit moaned a second time, lied down, and blacked out again.

* * *

 _"...And you missed again! Too slow!"_

 _Azirra smirked. Her companion, while not exactly a novice, still had a lot to learn._

 _"I'm not too slow, my friend. You are just too fast." The mer sighed and set his weapon aside. "Let's be honest here. I'll never become as great with the spear as you are. Some in my tribe even say you already must have held it when you jumped out of the womb."_

 _She frowned._

 _"Don't be like that, Alandro Sul. I had decades of training; you were only practicing it for a year." She grinned again and lifted her spear to point at him. "Come on, let's try again. I still have a few minutes before I must meet the Dwemer."_

 _"Those strange people again? Why?"_

 _She shrugged._

 _"Say whatever you want, but they are really nice if you don't point at everything in their cities and ask how it works. Also, they make great artifacts, they are better than any Wise Woman or Telvanni when it comes to that." She got into the stance. "Now, prepare yourself!"_

* * *

 _Ugh. What an odd dream._

She was alive. Barely, but alive.

Downing one standard and three minor potions of healing, while not the best countermeasure against the poisoning (that would be a spell or antidote), allowed her to survive toxins. Her leg hurt as if Sanguine had thrown a party inside her bones and she still felt like not all of her internal organs were in the proper place, but she was going to live.

 _If I'll get out of this alive, the first thing I'll buy will be an antidote_ , thought Azirra grimly, pulling herself to her feet (well, foot - she avoided putting pressure on her hurt leg) and using a wall as support.

Khajiit somberly looked at the mess she made - both scattered loot and a puddle of vomit. She sighed.

 _Here I am, stuck in the ruins with smugglers. Probably each of them would be problematic on their own and they expect me now... It's over._ Suddenly a realization struck. _No, they don't. They know I was poisoned and yet they didn't bother to even check if I'm dead. They are sure I'm already gone._

A devious, evil plan appeared in Azirra's head. Mephala would be proud.

"Purrfect!"

She can't win in direct fight. Escape was possible, but unlikely - there was only one path to exit and more likely than not one of them already guarded it. However, since they believed the danger was gone, they might have scattered across the dungeon, which would allow her to attack them one at the time. Either way she must apprehend the situation not like a fighter, but like rogue. Strike by surprise.

First order of business, check the wound.

The arrow was of poor quality and it wasn't shot with too great a force. Even better, her greaves absorbed most of the damage, which prevented the projectile from burrowing too deep into her leg. Certainly could have been much worse. Just to make sure, Azirra cast Balyna's Soothing Balm several times - after that the only sign of injury was a scab.

Second problem, the backpack.

During her search for puzzle box she found a lot of Dwemer made objects. She also... Liberated those weapons of her enemies that were small enough to fit in. The entirety of it weighted her down a lot. First, she set aside iron saber, various Dwemer utensils and the strange device. Her expensive robe was placed on the pile as well, just like the book she found in the ruins. She also did something unforgivable and decided to leave behind all her coins, both Dwemer ones and septims. Some Khajiit gods were surely going to be furious, but at least this way there was nothing to make a noise in her pockets. One dagger was set aside, the other she put in her pocket under the greaves. Now that she thought about them, she left them too, since both times she was detected during sneaking was because they made a noise. Then came the rations she bought all the way in Ebonheart and Azirra realized eating them should have been her first objective - she didn't know how long was she stuck down there, but it was enough to make her very hungry. Her two lock picks, probe, and the last healing potion (a standard one, fortunately, not minor) ended up in her other pocket, just like throwing stars.

She was as ready as she was going to be.

* * *

"I can't believe it!" shouted Irbran Kirbatha. He and Bato Veranius just entered Heaven's Gallery, the deepest part of the ruins, where they encountered the intruder few hours before. "Five people dead, one knocked out, and two just disappeared! Who in Oblivion was that cat?!"

"You think he's from, what was their name... Moral Thong?" asked his dumber companion. The Nord carried a long metal beam which they were going to use to bypass the lava lake and loot the body.

"It's Morag Tong, idiot. I don't think so. As far as I know, no one in the band angered any House members. Then again, they might have been searching for the boss, I don't know that much about him." The beam brushed against his shoulder when muscle for brains moved it into more comfortable position. "Watch where you swing that thing! Speaking of the Khajiit, I think it was a she. I'm not sure thought, with all that fur and in armor it could have been a male."

Irbran walked down the stairs and stopped when lake appeared in his sight. Something was amiss about the picture. Suddenly he realized and his eyes widened - the spear, the Dwemer spear intruder dropped before his attempt at escape, was gone.

"Bato... Liore hadn't picked up that spear, right?" He asked the Nord over his shoulder just before the enemy struck.

The Khajiit jumped from the ceiling and the beam fell from the hands of a dead man, a spear lodged near his neck. The burly Nord collapsed like many before him.

 _Where... How?!_ Breton looked up in bewilderment. That's when he realized the enemy somehow must have gotten to the upper level of the Gallery.

"I'm starting to like this weapon."

He looked back at the Khajiit and went red in the face. How dare she just walk in like that and wipe the entire team out... He brought his hands up.

"I'll burn you alive!"

The Khajiit dived behind one of the desks, barely avoiding his Greater Fireball. The Breton gritted his teeth. _I won't let her get away_. Without word, he casted three spells on himself to boost his powers. Just as he finished the third one, an enemy left the cover and sent a ball of lightning in his direction. He dived to the ground - he might have cast Reflect on himself, but those spells were never a perfect defense.

His dodge however was part of her plan. The Shock Ball was followed by another spell, one which Kirbatha couldn't avoid at the moment. It struck him... and bounced back, hitting the Khajiit. She opened the mouth, but no yelp was heard. He couldn't believe his luck - of all spells, she picked the one that, if reflected, would leave her defenseless.

For a second they were looking at each other, he with amusement and she with confusion combined with terror. The moment passed very soon and the invader ran away, soundlessly screaming. Kirbatha sent two Fireballs after her, but the cat got lucky and avoided both, jumping into the side tunnel. He smirked.

"I could finish her off right now, wouldn't be too hard with her magicka stunted..." He muttered and his smile disappeared. "Then again, she killed a lot of our guys. Magic might not be her only weapon. It's better to overwhelm her with numbers."

* * *

 _Welp, there goes my plan_ , thought Azirra somberly as she watched from behind the corner the spell caster leaving the room. _Now he's going to return with more people that want me dead. Just great._

 _Let's think. He will return with the archer, that much is obvious. They mentioned one smuggler was knocked out, so that might be one enemy more. So, I will have to deal with three enemies... assuming I haven't missed someone on the way here. The mage already saw my surprise attack, so jumping to the higher level from one of the desks is not going to work again._

In other way, she was completely fucked. Unless...

 _Yes, that might give me a fighting chance. But if I want to do it, I need to start right away, it takes some time and the main chamber isn't too far. Alright... The proper finger alignment was a triangle, if my memory serves me right._

"Ahem," So she can speak again. Good.

 _I'm sorry, my friend. Looks like I have to break my promise._

* * *

"This is a bad idea, Kirbatha," stated Idhdean Tailas or, as the mage called him, the wimp of the group. "I don't even have my dagger, only a club. I know nothing about using those!"

"You know nothing about using daggers as well!" laughed Coirtene Liore, the ranger of the band and one of the few competent people in the ruins. Now, after the unexpected visitor, he was in fact one of only the two competent people around. "Also, it's not that hard - you swing it and hit the enemy with the bigger end."

"The Heaven's Gallery is just behind the door, get ready. Don't underestimate that cat, she already killed too many of us."

"Still, to think my poisoned arrows would fail... Looks like she had an antidote. You might be right, Irbran, she's well prepared. How about this: Idhdean will rush at her and we will pelt her with arrows and spells." The archer prepared an arrow.

"So that I will be caught in the crossfire?! Not a chance!"

"Shut up, both of you!"

The mage casted a few protection spells on himself - Shield, Reflect, and Resist Magicka - and pushed the replaceable member of the group towards the door.

"Why do I always have to lead the charge?" grumbled the other Breton before kicking the door open and stopping. "Um... What is she doing?"

The wizard glanced at the intruder over his ally's shoulder and froze. The Khajiit had her thumbs and forefingers connected into a triangle in front of her face. She was whispering something. The disturbing part? Despite the numbers of her enemies she was smirking. Kirbatha's eyes widened.

"Stop her!" he bellowed while preparing to cast a spell. "Don't let her...!"

They failed to react on time, though. With a hum of magic, a navy-blue portal opened between two parties and out of it stepped an undead being.

There are many types of abominations walking in the tombs of Tamriel. Some are weak, some are strong, all are repulsive. This one, however, while definitely not the strongest, was the most disgusting of them all. The moment the monstrosity entered the plain of the living, a terrible stench of rotting flesh hit smugglers. Chances are it wouldn't be the last thing to hit them in this battle - bonewalkers, as they were known in Morrowind, had a nasty habit of casting spells that lowered strength and endurance, not to mention the high probability of being infected with the Brown Rot disease. As if that wasn't bad enough, the bastards were very resistant to frost, lightning, and poison damage.

Also, they had a temper so terrible they were the main reason for which most people thought all undead hated the living with passion.

"Bonewalker, attack the archer!"

The abomination roared (somehow, don't ask how does it work without head) and shambled towards the group. Both Bretons yelped and jumped aside, while the target raised his bow and shot the enemy... which was about as effective as throwing a pebble at it - as mentioned poison is useless against this monster and the arrows were hardly the best weapon against undead, since they drop (completely) dead only if the body itself is falling apart. A few sticks stuck in their bodies had dealt pretty much no damage at all.

The ranger must have realized this, since he screamed like a little girl and rushed to escape. The bonewalker walked past the two men to his sides to pursue its pray, at the same time casting spells that would wear the Imperial down and allow the monster to catch up to him.

"Yes!" cheered the Khajiit. "Now come back here and keep the mage busy!"

The undead completely ignored her and disappeared from sight to continue the chase. She gaped after him.

"...You've got to be kidding me."

"Charge!" commanded Kirbatha to his companion. When at first the other Breton failed to respond, he glared at him and that did the trick – the useless thug rushed at the intruder with a club raised high. The Khajiit managed to react on time (not that it was too hard with this enemy) and block the swing with her spear. Sadly, she also dodged the fireball the mage send in her direction.

"HEY! I said no- URRRGHHHH!" The fighter leaned forward and grasped his stomach after the cat grabbed his wrist, clearly casting some spell by touch.

"You will DIE!" Another fireball was sent towards the cat, this time aimed at the feet to make it much harder to avoid. To his surprise, even that wasn't good enough - she forcefully turned his weakened ally around and, holding him by the arms, positioned him between the two of them. While he still dealt some damage, judging by the loud yelp, it was clear from an agonizing scream that Tailas took most of it.

This tactic clearly appealed to the adventurer - instead of tossing the badly burned smuggler aside, she held him up with her singed palms and charged at the spellcaster. Since the distance wasn't great in the first place, he barely had the time for another fireball before the body was tossed at him and he fell to the floor. Now his clothes were also on fire.

"AAAAAACH!" The Breton started rolling on the ground to put out the flame.

By the time he was safe from burning to death, he found himself threatened by much less painful, but also harder to avoid death - the Khajiit stood above him with her spear raised. She was standing too close to cast his favourite spell, but not close enough to use touch based magic. He wouldn't even manage to stand up before she was to make a move.

Since she hadn't yet killed him, she clearly wanted something. Given the situation he decided to play along... for now.

"Two questions, bastard. Answer them and if I like answers I'll only knock you out instead of killing."

He eyed the tip of the spear, at the same time searching for something behind his back. "Ask away then." _Come on, I'm sure it fell somewhere there..._

"How many of you are still left?"

"After you passed through the ruins? Only those I brought with myself here," he grumbled. His own curiosity decided to reveal itself. "You walked in and destroyed everything that tried to stop you... Who in the Oblivion are you? Some kind of assassin?"

"I'm the one who asks you questions while holding a spear pointed at your throat. Where's the Dwemer puzzle box?"

"Dwemer puzzle box?"

"Yes, the damned puzzle box. The thing I had to cut my way inside for. It's a cube made of Dwemer metal."

At last, his hand found the object he searched for.

"Here's your puzzle box!" And with that shout he dived to the side. He failed to entirely avoid the attack - the spear cut the skin on his cheek - but that was alright. He paid her back with the club smashing into her shin with all of his might.

"YAAAARGHHHHH!" The shriek of the crippled Khajiit was like a music to his ears. The woman fell to the floor, being in too much pain to remain standing, not to mention continue to fight, while he slowly rose, the club in hand. At last, the cursed cat was about to answer for her slaughter - for even though he didn't care about them as long as he survived, with most of the smugglers dead and some just gone the group was going to fall apart either way, meant he had to search for a new band. That meant a loss of money and that was unforgivable. Had it been a woman of another race, he would find another way for her to... make up for most of his loss, but a filthy Khajiit was just going to die.

"Now then... Hold still, so that I don't have to tire myself too much..." he said to the cat, even though she was probably in too much pain to even understand him. Hard to tell, with the way she was squirming on the ground. He lifted the club. "Or not, it's up to you. That would mean more pain for you before your death, either way is fine."

And that's when two rotting hands grasped his arms.

* * *

 _Great, I broke a leg **and** a nail_ , observed Azirra with a frown, while holding her paw, damaged by her fall. With her healthy foot, she kicked the downed man in the stomach in retaliation. Perhaps 'downed' wasn't the best word to use here. He was clearly doing some stretching recently - after all he was stretched all over the place, the floor, walls, even a little bit of the ceiling. Quite gruesome, but hardly unexpected, that's what happens when a more powerful version of a zombie jumps an unarmored opponent. One could be immobilized by pain, the other couldn't.

Azirra sighed in relief. If the bonewalker returned, it clearly meant the archer was at least as much dead as the mage, undead were very stubborn and throughout when it comes to such things... When it comes to all things in fact.

She wasn't proud of her ability to cast this spell, even though back in Cyrodill it wasn't illegal, merely frowned upon. It was however a memento from one of the darker moments of her life. She still remembered how she was approached by a seemingly young wizard in a dark robe when she was in the middle of her favourite pastime, reading books in the bookstore of her friend... How she was introduced to a group of kids of varied ages, all sharing a trait of being born with a greater magicka pool and more natural talent than other people... And other things she would rather not remember. Most people involved were dead, some less fortunate wished they were _only_ dead, others were just arrested. Several kids avoided any direct consequences, like her or her older friend - she again ended up on the streets, nothing new, while he made a total turnaround and become an acolyte in the Temple of Akatosh in Kvatch.

In this short time period, she learned only one necromantic spell from her teacher, but that was already more than most kids of her age did. Back then, when she succeeded for the first time, she wet herself when a mutilated mass of flesh rose in front of her and attempted to kill everyone but her. Good old times indeed.

"At least it returned when I really needed some help," murmured the Khajiit while reaching out for her last healing potion before gulping it down. She cringed at the taste. "Ajira was right, healing potions might be useful, but taste worse than a raw rat meat." She knew what she was saying, she truly did. She watched as her leg slowly changed from a leg shaped object into a proper, if very swollen, limb. She touched the shin with a forefinger and hissed - while there was no longer constant pain, a little bit of pressure resulted in definitely more than just a tickle. With a sigh, she started casting Balyna's Soothing Balm and continued to do so until she run out of magicka. Even then her leg was far from healed - she managed to stand up, but it still hurt and she was slightly limping.

 _At least it's all over, assuming the bastard was speaking the truth, which is likely. Unless someone from unexplored part moved into the part already explored by me, completely ignoring all dead bodies on the floor, I should be safe._

She sighed in relief and picked up her spear. She leaned on it.

 _I guess now I just need to search the rest of the ruins and I can return to Balmora. It's about time._

She decided to first check the area behind the lava lake and retrieve her full equipment. Azirra was in no shape to get there by jumping like she did it the first time (even walking was unpleasant, she had no desire to try running to take a leap over a pit of liquid death), but the dead Nord smuggler delivered a perfect footbridge. As it turns out, the corridor ended with a small observatory, in which a massive telescope took up most of the space. There was another Dwemer tube in the room, but that was it. She packed scattered items into the backpack and placed the coins back in her pocket - finally, she no longer felt like a traitor to her own race. With this corner of the ruins explored, she left the lava lake behind and went down the only unchecked corridor left in Arkngthand.

It was warm in there. Part of the floor gave way to a catwalk beneath which she noticed, surprise, more lava. After a few meters, it was once more replaced by normal ground, just as she entered a symmetrical room. Opposite of the entrance was a rusty door, next to which were two walls, dividing the place into three sections, with the middle one containing nothing besides said gate. The other two had something resembling a well in the middle of them. The left part had a few chests and the other one two cupboards. Searching all of the containers gave her even more loot - at this point carrying all of this was killing her back - but again, no puzzle box.

"I swear, if by the end of it all I won't find it..." she growled when facing the door. Taught by experience, she first checked with a probe if it was trapped. Since the result was negative, she just pushed them and, when that failed, pulled. She frowned and removed a lock pick from her pocket. She looked into the keyhole to see how complicated was the mechanism.

"Mother of Talos..."

Needless to say, it was very complicated. Frankly, she didn't even know where to begin, except that she had to put a repurposed hairclip inside.

 _Well, I should at least try, even if it's not exactly my forte._

She inserted the first lockpick into the keyhole... and let go of it with a yelp when the lock sucked the tool inside. Were she even half a second too late, she would be without a finger. With wide eyes, she gaped at the lock, which at the moment was making strange, mechanical noises. After few seconds, something clicked and a little bit of silvery powder poured out of the keyhole. She blinked a few times.

 _What in Oblivion?_

Azirra with disbelief placed another lockpick inside the keyhole. The pinch of powder at her feet slightly increased in size. The Khajiit looked between the keyhole and the disappointing result of her attempt at opening the lock. At last a terrible realization struck her.

She failed.

It wasn't bandits or Dwemer automatons that stopped her, no. It was a damned door. Both of her lock picks were broken even though despite what the common folks think the thieves often go through life with only a handful of those, since they simply never brake - why would they? Well, they certainly would need a lot more of them if said thieves happened to encounter this particular, ancient lock. Even a greatest locksmith of modern age would cry of joy if he managed to make anything half as good as this. The door wasn't just resistant to the usage of lockpicks, it was outright shredding them.

She banged her head on the metal surface, not even caring about the slight pain it caused.

"WHY?! Gods, why are you doing this to me?!"

* * *

With a heavy heart, Azirra returned to the main chamber (where, by the way, she found a pile of... things she assumed used to be a certain archer). She had an amazing loot, but with her main objective unfulfilled, this entire adventure couldn't be classified as a success. How was she going to explain it to Antabolis? 'Door ate my lockpicks.'?

Perhaps he would understand... If not, then she would have to ask people at the Southern Wall Cornerclub for help and as a result owe them a favour - a den of thieves surely had someone capable of opening a lock like that, right? Right?!

 _So much killing and so much resources wasted and I'm still most likely going to fail. This is just so... so unfair!_ The door to the outside opened on its own as soon as she stepped in front of them. She squinted her eyes - the light of the sun blinded her for a few seconds. Once she got used to it, she slowly walked towards the Dwemer bridge. The weight of her spoils was heavier than anything. Also, just how long was she stuck underground? The sun appeared to be approaching the horizon, which meant she either spent only a few hours down there (very unlikely) or it was an entire day, with her lying on the very bottom of the ruins with poison in her veins for most of that time. _I'll ask in the city._

A sudden sound broke the silence. It was hard to place it. It was as if... someone was dragging something really heavy on the ground? She couldn't find a better way to name it. She looked around in caution, fully aware that this might have been her only warning before something jumped her.

Despite her efforts, she saw nothing out of place. She shrugged and made another several steps towards the bridge.

The sound repeated and Azirra immediately twirled around, searching for the source. It was futile this time as well.

"I know you are here! Come out! Are you scared?!"

For a moment, there was no reaction. After few seconds however an answer came via deep, resonating voice.

"Scared? Little _Kaaz_ , there are very few things in this world that can scare me. You are certainly not one of them."

She looked in the direction of an old, crumbling Dwemer tower. There was no one in sight... But after a few seconds she noticed two small lights in the shadow of the partly collapsed chamber on the top. They were shining in the dark for a moment, disappeared for an instance, and then appeared again.

It was a blink. Those were eyes. Azirra suddenly felt a lot less confident - the perspective might be tricking her, but the distance between them seemed much bigger than that of an ordinary person.

The sound from before made a reappearance and the head of the speaker was revealed to the world.

 _I-I just can't take it anymore_ , was Azirra's only thought at the sight of a serpentine body.

"Sup."

Her mind was running faster than ever before. Fleeing would be useless; he would easily catch up. Hiding was out of question, no place to hide except the ruins... and then she would die of starvation. And the thought of fighting that thing was so absurd it almost made her brake into a hysterical laugh. In the end she sighed, defeated. There really was no way out, was it?

"Just make it quick and kill me already," she said with her head hung low. In silence, she awaited her death.

"...What? Why would I do that? Your death doesn't benefit me in any way."

The answer stumped her. _What's going on?_ A beast that doesn't eat people?

"Now that I think about it, you look familiar. Have we met before?"

 _He remembered. Of course, he remembered, it wasn't so long ago, but... why would he bother to remember? Why is he here? Was he... tracking me?_ The frightened Khajiit looked up at the dragon. He seemed oddly interested. _This must be how that mage felt when I was interrogating him. Divines truly have a sick sense of humor._

"Y-yes. In t-the swamp."

The dragon bared its teeth in a terrific, twisted parody of a smile.

"Oh yes, now I remember! The falling _Fahliil Kro_ incident. A truly rare atmospheric phenomenon, won't you agree? He almost hit me on the way down."

She had no answer to that. Was he... toying with her?

"Say... What were you doing in the ruins? I'm aware there was a group of smugglers in there, but from what I know they were all human. How do you fit in the picture?"

"I-I..."

"No, wait! I will guess. I like training my prophetic abilities."

 _...Prophetic abilities?_

"You are... an adventurer, yes?"

She nodded. It wasn't surprising the giant monster figured that out, her gear and a big sack full of loot right next to her were kind of a dead giveaway. If the speaker belonged to any other race, she would answer with 'One does not need to be a prophet to guess that'.

"I see your adventure was quite successful... Ah, but I also can sense a certain... deficiency. There was something else you were searching for and you clearly didn't get it."

 _I take it back, that thing really WAS a seer._

"Well then, I have a pretty good idea what it was, although it's possible I'm wrong, your typical _Qostiid_ isn't a very reliable source of information. They tell only what might be, not what must be. Since you are standing here alive, I assume all smugglers are gone?"

She nodded again. Although the dragon seemed peaceful at the moment and unlikely to attack her, she was not going to test that by speaking more than it was absolutely necessary.

" _Pruzah!_ " She was more than a little startled by the sudden exclamation, but he seemed to be smiling, so it was probably a good thing. "With those _Lirre_ gone, I no longer have to worry about a group of _Kendovve_ , soldiers, coming here to cleanse the place due to the pests attacking the travelers. I planned to keep them trapped inside, but this is so much better. I don't have to outlast them in who-would-survive-longer-without-food-and-water contest. You have my thanks, _Kaaz_."

"Y-you're w-welcome."

"I guess that makes me somewhat indebted to you, even if not much. I think I know exactly how to repay you. Let's come back to the previous topic. You were searching for a specific object in those ruins and as far as I know there's only one unique thing about Arkngthand."

Azirra's eyes slowly widened. Could it be...? She tried her best to not rise her hopes too much. But if it even knows the name of the ruins...

"Were you questing for a Dwemer puzzle box?"

 _He does know!_

"Yes! Yes, I did!" she cried out, for a second forgetting about the very real danger of being eaten alive. _There's still a chance I can get it!_

The dragon chuckled.

"As I thought. In that case, come closer."

That short request immediately reminded her exactly how much was at stake here and now. For a second she hesitated, but in the end, she slowly approached the tower, ready to ran back into the ruins as soon as the being turned hostile.

"Are you ready? Catch."

Something fell from the tower and Azirra barely caught it before it could shatter on the rocks. It was made from metal, Dwarven metal. It was covered in circles and lines. It was a cube. Some of it was also slightly melted, for some reason. She stared, barely holding back the smile, because she knew openly celebrating right now would result in the Divines once more pissing on her parade, most likely in the form of a fire breath.

"There you have it. Sorry if it's a bit damaged, I accidently swallowed it along with the bandit holding it and my stomach acid is really potent." ... _What? How can you accidentally swallow an entire bandit?_ Thanks to the important gift, Azirra was now much less afraid of the legendary beast, even though it just admitted to eating people.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Oh, that's nothing. You most likely wouldn't even need my help in the first place if I hadn't attacked those people. Still, let's assume we're even now. My new nest is secured and you have what you came for." The dragon laid his head on what would be recognized for most animals as lap. "Well then, go. I'm sure you have many things to do; the lives of _Jorre_ are so short. Please, keep my presence to yourself. I would rather avoid an angry mob."

"I will... Besides, who would believe me?" she asked with a small smile. The dragon answered in kind. Surprisingly it wasn't as menacing as it used to be.

"Exactly. Being a member of a supposedly extinct race has some merits, even if there's not much of them. Now, I believe our business here is concluded."

She bowed. A little bit of courtesy wouldn't hurt.

"Thank you again and goodbye."

She turned around and headed for the bridge.

"You are limping. They got you good, didn't they?" asked the dragon despite the fact they already said their farewells.

"Nothing I can't deal with," she answered without stopping.

"On your own, perhaps. But the way to _Golzfeykro_ , I'm sorry, Balmora, takes some time and you have quite a baggage. You mortals must be careful about such things, don't tire yourself like that. You clearly don't know how to properly loot."

She stopped at that and turned around, a bit surprised by the fact he cared and offended at his choice of words.

"Excuse me? I know perfectly well how to loot; the proof is on my back."

The dragon chuckled.

"No, what you did is called 'plundering'. There's a difference. Looting is plundering without collecting trash that weights more than it is worth. My advice it to hide it somewhere, go to the healers in that nearby fort, and return when your foot isn't almost twice the size of the other one. Not to mention I heard that what you are doing isn't exactly legal, and if I'm right, the Dwemer cities are considered an imperial property by the Empire."

Azirra blinked and realized the idea wasn't so bad. What he mentioned was also very likely, otherwise the Dwemer ruins would be all plundered a long time ago.

"I guess..." she approached a big pipe next to the entrance to the ruins and placed the sack behind it. She stared suspiciously at the dragon. "You aren't going to steal it, are you?"

"Believe me, if you had anything I desired, I would have already taken it by force. My species is like that." He laughed and Azirra realized she should be a little more careful around the drake even if he was quite friendly. "Treasures of mortal races are of no value to me since I can't use them and exchanging them for something else is not possible for me. That's the downside of being a dragon. So, I have no interests in your findings..." his eyes suddenly widened and he smirked. "Unless, of course, they happen to include alcohol. Because then you are right to be worried."

That sentence was so unexpected, the Khajiit was once again forced to do a quick reality check.

"You mean... You are a dragon that likes drinking?"

"Who doesn't? Even minions of Dagoth Ur like to knock themselves out silly from time to time. You know, they have their own drink, Dagoth Brandy. Remember, young adventurer, this important truth..." Suddenly the dragon was deadly serious. The change was startling. "Everything ends. Money, fame, beauty... But even in the darkest hour of your life, when you are alone and down on your luck..." She waited breathlessly for a word of wisdom from the ancient creature. "...you can still find consolation in overeating and strong alcohol."

She just frowned, turned around and marched towards the bridge.

"You know what, get me a big, nice bottle of wine and I'll owe you a favour, _Wunduniik_. I know many things and I'm pretty good in battle as well, you surely will find me useful to have around. If I'm in the area, I almost always stay here during the day, it's safer to fly and hunt during the night." She ignored him. At this point Azirra pretty much figured out what kind of being the dragon was and there clearly was nothing mystical about him. He was just a strong, big lizard with terrible jokes. "Er... alright then, I see you are in a hurry, get well soon. I have a feeling we will meet again, _Mal Kaaz_."

 _I've had enough weirdness for a single day. I know where to go for my next dose, though._

* * *

 _Nailed it!_ Ted cheered silently when the Khajiit disappeared from sight. _My wisdom and power impressed the Nerevarine!_

 _Still, it's a little troubling that this awkward, shy fuzzball has to become the ultimate badass and saviour of this land. There's a lot of work ahead of me. Let's think... I can't just walk up and say I'm going to follow her everywhere, I'm not Lydia. Then how..._

...

 _Well, I guess it can't be helped. I will have to slowly gain her trust and show I am the real deal. A few more 'prophecies' and unexpected encounters should do the trick. The next course of action is obvious, I just have to wait until she goes for her next errand. I can't assist her in Vivec though... and in many other places, now that I think about this. No dungeon crawling for me. However..._

 _It will be difficult, but it might be possible. After all, the ancient Nords were able to create shouts that dragons couldn't came up with, right? There's room for one more, I'm certain. I can only hope it will work if I focus for long enough._

Suddenly, he realized something extremely important.

"Dammit! I forgot to ask her if she knows Katia Managan!".

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **That's not the only thing you forgot, you trolling fartface. You didn't ask about her name and said yours. Looks like the body is not the only human thing you lost, since manners are gone as well.**

 **What's this, Azirra knows necromancy? This cat sure is full of surprises, just when you think you have her figured out, she suddenly does something like that.**

 **By the way, this meeting of Rotheimaak and Azirra was the idea that made me create this story (that and a lack of a true companion in original Morrowind was making the main quest quite lonely, truly made us feel we were on our own). I've been thinking for a while how to write it and I think I did a good job, showing that Ted can be both stupid and clever in a single conversation, while Azirra can quickly shift from shy and meek to 'I no longer even care, so don't cross me'. Now that it's published, I actually have to think hard on what to do next - we are getting close to the point in which all quests in Balmora are done and after that the others are all over the map.**

 **So yeah, the deeper levels of Arkngthand shall remain unexplored at least for now. I might be wrong, since I didn't start a new game in Morrowind just to check things and uesp is vague, but I'm pretty sure the door that stopped Azirra had a difficulty of 100. In other words, that's the hardest type of lock you can encounter in the game.**

 **I think that would be all for now. Until next time.**


	12. That's why you should avoid brandy

**And so we reached the twelfth chapter. Sorry for being late, my fault.**

 **Lunar Loon - Always and forever.**

 ** _Xunzar_ \- Really? Huh. I was worried that Azirra, being less crazy of the two and more generic, would be more boring to the readers.**

 ** _Accursius_ \- Of course the dragons wouldn't tell their names to everyone. Ted however didn't reveal his name because he simply forgot, just like he forgot to ask about hers. Yes, prophecies are often cryptic, our protagonist will definitely use it more than just a few times to bullshit his way out of problems. The problem with Dunmer tombs isn't just the size of the entrance, but also the size of the corridors - the dragon might enter, but it will be far from comfortable and gods have mercy on him if he discovers that the tunnel he's crawling through is a dead end... while the walls are too close to turn around. Can dragon get drunk? I don't know either, but Ted sure is gonna do his best to find out. : )**

 ** _Mk0008_ \- I wish I could say it was my joke, but sadly I only shamelessly stole it from Simon the Sorcerer 3D. That game, much like the other titles in the series, had a great humor, but sadly that's the only good thing about this particular one.**

 ** _MehrunesDragonbro_ \- That wasn't me, that was my inner Sans! xD**

 **Brace yourself people, the train reached Exposition Town and the population is you!**

* * *

Turns out healing magic and fast working potions aren't the best way to heal a wound. Apparently, a bottle of disgusting, but potent medicine, a blessing from a shrine, and several hours of sleep are a much better option. Azirra was ready to agree with it by the time she left Fort Moonmoth in the morning. The services of the Imperial Cult weren't free, but definitely very cheap - priests took pride in the fact the only money they asked for was the cost of ingredients, not giving them any profit. Or at least that's what Noluntius Cadullus claimed, but the guy seemed honest enough, as often is the case with people whose skin is more wrinkled than a walnut.

Dragon Mountain was surprisingly devoid of any dragons this morning. Yes, that's what she was going to call it from this point onward - much easier to remember than Arkngthand Hill. The lizard was gone, most likely on a flight. Azirra was perfectly fine with it - he seemed to spread madness and confusion every time he appeared. His introduction involved a flying Breton, for Mara's sake. She was here only for the sack of loot, which was fortunately untouched.

On the way to the city, Azirra was pondering about the same subject she did the last evening - the dragon, of course. Just because she would rather avoid it entirely didn't mean she wasn't curious. She even asked that Cadulles about this species since she was pretty sure it had something to do with religion. Her memory was working well - apparently, all dragons, or at least the ones in Tamriel (it wasn't clear how similar they were to those in Akavir), were sons of Akatosh, making them essentially demigods, which is why the ancient Nords were serving them... until the flying lizards ate one cow too many without asking and got all killed off. It's fine to have a natural armor, wings and ability to breath fire, but your race is still going to become an extinct one sooner or later if there are no females, which was the case - for some reason Alduin had only sons. So, the Time God might be sexist. That would certainly explain a lot about both the culture of Empire and her life.

That, however, only made her question from the previous day remained a mystery. By all logic, he should have been found centuries ago. Then again, she knew nothing about his past - he only mentioned his nest was new, so he clearly just moved here. There are still many places that weren't introduced to civilization and up until several years ago almost the entirety of Vvardenfell was like that, since the Temple was very stubborn about not allowing for the growth of the settlements. That increased the chances of him remaining in the shadows for so long.

 _All of that doesn't change the fact I met him twice, accidently. Or so he claims. This is suspicious. One meeting, sure, that's possible. But two?_

That's when a cold, ominous revelation struck her and made the memory of a slightly insane, strange dragon seem much more maleficent and once again made her feel cautious of him. And by cautious, I mean terrified. Her fur bristled.

 _He must be following me on purpose._

* * *

No wonder the Emperor declared all Dwemer ruins a property of the crown. If Azirra wasn't an adventurer and as a result had massive expenses, she would be set for the rest of her life.

No joking. True, she didn't get much money in the ruins, only around fifty septims, but when she dropped the sack of loot in front of Ra'Virr and ten Dwemer mugs fell out of it, the other Khajiit stated he most likely won't be able to afford even half of the content.

Azirra's loot of Dwemer origin was as follows: mentioned ten mugs, four bowls, five small goblets, four big goblets, three tubes, two pitchers, one strange, heavy device of unknown purpose, a little bit of raw Dwemer metal, and fifty coins. Now get this: mugs and small goblets were of the lowest value and yet each of them was worth ten septims. In case you don't know, that would keep Azirra's tummy full for entire day, more if spent wisely. And before you ask, yes, that was a price after taking into account the fact so much Dwemer items would lower their price when sold at once and that risks were high due to the fact trading Dwemer artifacts was technically illegal. Not that Ra'Virr cared - Khajiits have wonderful ability to completely ignore the laws they don't like.

The other objects were of following value in septims: twenty, thirty, forty, forty, no idea (no wonder, that thing would most likely interest only an expert), forty and, wait for it, fifty. Yes, each of the Dwemer coins was worth as much as five bowls or mugs. And she had fifty of them.

I'll spare you math and just inform you that all of this could be sold for three thousand and one hundred septims, with coins responsible for most of the profit.

 _Wah?_ That was the only thing she thought when Ra'Virr said the estimated value.

"Of course, this one can't buy this much, it's just too much for Ra'Virr, you understand," added trader. "This one can only pay six hundred for everything except the device and coins."

"...Deal," uttered Azirra semiconsciously, still shocked at the fact she suddenly advanced from 'average adventurer' to 'rich adventurer'. Suddenly a certain memory hit her and she barely hold her laugh. _Trash that weighs more than is worth, huh? A shame he's not present._ "I have more loot not related to Dwemer, but I assume you already spent what you could?"

"This one indeed doesn't have much gold left. I'm afraid friend Azirra will need to ask other traders, as much as it pains Ra'Virr to say so. Trading with you is a pleasure... as long as no slapping is involved."

Azirra smirked.

"Then I guess I will have to give you a warning every time I'm about to sell you your favourite treat."

* * *

It's official, Azirra was filthy rich.

Ra'Virr wasn't the only merchant that found himself without much gold left. Wayn, the smith at the Fighters Guild she met last time, was impressed by how much weapons she gained since then. At his question about the origin of two steel daggers, two iron sabers, dozen throwing stars, one long bow and twelve poisoned arrows she only said that lately she was facing a lot of people that wanted her dead. Surprisingly, that only made him friendlier. She also gained five hundred and fifty septims from selling these items. Furthermore, she was certain it wasn't the end of her profits for this day, since she intended to get rid of her heavy armor and buy something light that doesn't make noise in the worst possible moment.

That would most likely make her budget of over 1600 septims drop back to much less ridiculous level, but she was perfectly fine with this. For now, though, she faced the door to the training room in the basement of the guildhall, ready to either get the information she needed or strangle Antabolis if he tried to somehow weasel his way out of this.

The drill master was this time the only person in the room, standing in the middle and reading something, just like the last time.

"Huh? Oh, it's you." He put his book aside. "I assume you have what I asked for?"

"Yes. If you will tell me it's the wrong cube, know that someone will die in this building today, I had to cut my way through ten smugglers to get it." Azirra handed him the Dwemer puzzle box. The Imperial examined the item.

"Looks like nobody will have to face the gods this day, this is indeed what I needed. Slightly damaged, but that's nothing major." He pressed something on the cube and it emitted a low sound. "Fascinating... The inscriptions suggest the cube is actually a key to some ancient, unique Dwemer door..." He looked up. "Alright then, do you have paper? It will be for the best if you will write everything down; smaller risk of miscommunication."

"Yes, give me a second." Azirra placed her backpack on the ground and took out a bottle of ink, a pen, and a single page. "Ready when you are."

"Alright then. Let's start with the Nerevarine. I'm afraid that with this subject I can't help you much, unlike with the other one. It simply has less to do with solid facts than with unclear prophecies. First you must know who was Nerevar Indoril. Are you familiar with that name?"

Azirra racked her brain for answer.

"It seems familiar... Oh, I know, it was in 'A War of the First Council'. He was a Dunmer general, correct?"

"Hortator, if you want to be specific, that's how Houses call their military leaders. But yes, you are surprisingly well aware of history... Not bad. Caius often says he's fed up with heroes. They arrive to this land to tame it, not knowing their part in the grand scheme of things, not aware how their destiny is created by historical process, at least according to him. Sometimes Caius sends them to me, hoping they will learn... Poor Caius, so many disappointments. It is good to know you are different. If you didn't do so already, read 'On Morrowind, the Imperial Province'. Who hates who, where's trouble brewing... That's where the opportunity lies for an outlander like you."

The Khajiit decided not to tell him that was the only book she read in the last year.

"Anyway, let's come back to the topic at hand. As you already know, Nerevar of House Indoril was the only person in history that ever managed to unite four biggest tribes and four Great Houses of Vvardenfell under a single banner. He did so in order to defeat the Dwemer, who at the time forged an alliance with House Dagoth. Nerevar did the impossible and stopped much more advanced dwarves from expanding beyond the region of Red Mountain. Finally, thanks to the betrayal of Voryn Dagoth, he infiltrated the main stronghold of Dwemer king, defeated him, and left his ally to guard the citadel. When he returned with his three generals, leader of the House Dagoth betrayed him instead and in a battle that ensued Nerevar Indoril received a deadly wound and soon died. The Temple that was created shortly after those incidents named him saint and that's where history ends.

"There's more, though. Ashlanders claim that the three generals, who were no one else but the future gods of Tribunal, actually killed the Nerevar. They believe this hero will be reborn to kill the traitors, unite the Dunmer against outlander invaders, build a great wall, and make Morrowind great again... Or something equally ridiculous. Anyway, both the Temple and the Empire outlawed the cult, hence I don't know much about it. Tell Caius that Sharn gra-Muzgob at the Mages Guild would know more."

"Sharn? The one who keeps telling everyone that she's not a necromancer?"

"The same one. Now, as for the Sixth House cult, it's quite simple, if vague. The infamous Sixth House is simply an extinct House Dagoth. Their clan stead was called Kogoruhn. Due to Voryn Dagoth's betrayal, it was discredited and was completely dissolved after the Battle of Red Mountain, with the survivors joining other houses. According to the Temple, Dagoth Ur, who is supposedly Voryn Dagoth resurrected and twisted by evil magic, and his ash vampires are the last remnants of the House. Back in its days it had a complex, dangerous hierarchy, with killing your superiors by treachery as the traditional way of advancement. Now, the beliefs of cult of this House are obviously not widely known due to its obscure nature, however just from the name alone we can make a good guess that it treats Dagoth Ur as the god and the other leaders of the House as his godlike kin. The cultists are hostile towards the Empire and all outlanders, although they seem less likely to seek conflict with fellow Dunmer that came from outside of the province. It also appears that the presence of Sleepers is caused by the cult or possibly Dagoth Ur himself. I think that pretty much covers the subject."

Azirra nodded, finishing the report. About time, her hand was getting sore.

"So that's all?"

"Yes. If you want to learn more, you will be hard pressed to talk with a member of either cult, since both hate outlanders and stay away from the public. Your best chance would be searching for books on the subject. I know of the following titles: 'Saint Nerevar', 'Nerevar Moon-And-Star' and 'The Real Nerevar'. Also, as I mentioned, you can ask Sharn gra-Muzgob. For some reason, she studied the local superstitions in her free time. Well, to each their own, I suppose."

The Khajiit put her report into her pocket and put on her backpack.

"In that case, I'll go and tell Caius what I've learned. Thanks for the help, Mister Antabolis."

The Imperial waved his hand.

"Hasphat is fine. Make sure to visit again if you wish to ask about something else. Also, I might have something for you if you return, I think this Dwemer puzzle box could be of use to you later once I fully examine it."

Azirra was about to take her leave, but then another thought struck her, and, when she thought about it, Antabolis seemed as the perfect person to ask.

"Actually, I have another question, though it's completely unrelated to previous subjects. I wish to ask what you, as a historian, know about the role of dragons in ancient history."

Drill sergeant raised one brow.

"Dragons? Why would you be interested in them of all things?"

She smiled innocently. Azirra, being of petite build, actually was capable of pulling that off - most of her kind would just look mischievous if they tried.

"No particular reason. I just spoke recently with a priest about Akatosh and dragons came up. I wanted to hear it from a scholar." It is kind of true, except it was Akatosh that came up, not the other way around. It seemed Antabolis bought it.

"Ah, I see. It's not exactly my field of expertise, but in my opinion a historian should always know at least basics about every time period, no matter which one is their favourite. Dragons... Now that is indeed an old subject and as such there aren't many written sources on it. Pretty much the entire knowledge on this species comes from legends, excavations of burial sites, and rare works of Greybeards, an old order of monks who spend their lives in seclusion, studying the language of the dragons."

"Isn't it a little silly, dedicating the life to learn the language which is no longer in use?"

"Perhaps, but that is definitely not the case with this particular one. You see, this... Thu'um, if I pronounce it correctly, is special. Words from that language have power. Dragons were considered the sons of God of Time and, whether it is true or not, they could slightly alter the world just by speaking. The Greybeards believe the correct use of this power leads to enlightenment, since it comes from the Divines."

 _Wait. The dragon was using some foreign words from time to time. Were those...?_

"Anyway, Skyrim under the rule of dragons was a harsh place, much worse than under the Nords. They were proud, strong, and solved most problems by brute force."

 _How is that different from most Nord males?_

"Their culture was simplistic. A first meeting of two dragons usually ended in devastating battle, in the future most of the time the loser was showing respect for the winner. They themselves built nothing, but Nords under their leadership raised many strongholds. Most of them contained a chamber called the Hall of Stories (or legends, I'm not sure) and even more often Word Walls, which were covered with short texts in their language."

"So, their impact wasn't really so big?"

"Of course it was big. Many words from Thu'um are used even today with slight alterations. The most prominent example is word Oblivion - the dragons, who had to battle with daedra in the Merethic Era, had much better understanding on the subject than the first Nords from Atmora. Furthermore, dragons' tyranny in the end allowed them to harness Thu'um for themselves. That played a part even during the War of First Council, when they aided Dwemer with this power. It also was important in the creation of the Empire itself - Tiber Septim before his rise to power was simply learning Thu'um, which later made it much easier for him to conquer Tamriel. If the Greybeards are right, then it might have even been the reason for which he ascended to godhood and if that isn't a world changing event, then I don't know what is. The actions of dragons affect us to this very day."

Antabolis sighed.

"It is quite sad, you know? A great source of knowledge extinguished forever by a bunch of barbarians with axes. Thanks to their special connection to Time itself, they were looking at the history from a unique perspective. Not like humans, who see it as a linear path, or like gods, for whom there's no past and future, only an infinite present, their viewpoint was something in between. We will never learn the secrets of the dragons, because they are gone forever. Rediscovering the inventions of the Dwemer is actually easier than those of dragons - believe it or not, but there's still one last dwarf left in the world, suffering from a terrible disease in the depths of Tel Fyr and half mad from the pain, but when he is lucid, he's more than willing to share his knowledge. I spoke to him once... What a terrible fate. Still, he's alive and that's much better than what happened to the dragons."

Azirra blinked, which, as she noticed, was starting to become a trend since she arrived to Morrowind. _The Dwemers aren't actually completely gone? Huh. You learn something new every day._ She decided it was about time she finished her first mission, even if Antabolis did the impossible and gave an interesting history lesson.

"Thank you for sharing this with me, Hasphat. I believe I should go, I was keeping Cosades waiting long enough as it is."

"I wish you good luck in your future endeavours, my friend. Farewell."

* * *

"So this is what you have learned from Antabolis?" asked Caius Cosades looking over her report. "I trust he didn't work you too hard for it."

"No worry. I only had to risk my life and sanity several times and kill a bunch of armed smugglers in their lair."

"I see. So the mission was average."

 _Wow, he's good with sarcasm. Either that, or soon I'm going to die in this line of job._ In the meantime, Caius put the report aside.

"I've glanced over the notes. Hasphat gave us enough intel about the history behind both cults, but sadly he hardly said anything new about the Nerevarine cult. We will follow his suggestions. Hop over to the Mages Guild and question Sharn gra-Muzgob. My fellow Blades mentioned you joined this Guild, so your arrival won't seem strange to anyone. Again, if she needs a favour, do it. Simple enough."

She smiled grimly. Another mission of low importance? Not that she really minded, those usually are easier.

"As you wish, Spymaster. I'll return when I get what we need."

* * *

Nine-Toes was having a bad day. And I do not mean 'nothing seems to go right' kind of bad, it was more like 'I might get arrested and sent to prison for several years'. All because he was in the rich part of the city this morning.

He needed some backup, there was no way for him to get out of this without help. Fortunately, a perfect candidate was just walking next to his house when he was about to enter.

"Oi, friend!" he called. The Khajiit's ears moved and she looked at him. "Yes, you. There's something we need to talk about."

It didn't felt entirely right to ask a fellow Blade for help, a new recruit at that, but he was kind of out of options. The Argonian opened the door and invited her inside. She raised a brow, but entered.

"Hello, err..."

"Azirra."

"Right. I hate to do so, but I must ask you for help. The ground is kind of burning under my feet, if I can say so."

The Khajiit frowned.

"What kind of help? If you mean fighting..."

"It's not that. Listen, I need someone to clear my name. Today I was snooping in the Rich Town and I got mixed up in this mess with the Hlaalo manor."

She looked confused.

"What mess?"

It was his turn to feel surprised.

"You don't know? I thought the entire city knew at this point. A noble of House Hlaalu, Ralen Hlaalo, was found in his home lying in the pool of blood. And guess who just happened to be nearby, doing some work for Caius?"

Azirra groaned.

"Are you serious, Nine-Toes?"

"I wish I wasn't. The House is already investigating the situation, they sent some new Redguard member to search for murderer. She already talked with me and it doesn't look good. I obviously couldn't tell her why I was there and people saw me."

"So now she sees you as the main suspect. Great."

He smiled weakly.

"Not quite. There were two more people, but unlike me they weren't recognized. The first one, a Dunmer, left the manor completely calm, so other people haven't even noticed him. The other... That guy caused a lot of ruckus. No surprise, that's normal when a Khajiit jumps from a balcony and runs as if he was chased by the Mehrunes Dagon himself."

"A Khajiit and a Dunmer..." She stopped for a moment. "If I'll try to take a closer look, won't that make me a suspect too due to my race?"

"Don't worry about that. It was a male Khajiit and Sudione, the investigator, knows that much," he assured her.

"Then I guess I'll help you; Caius would probably expect it from me. Any ideas where should I look?"

"None, sadly. I was kinda hoping you would know where to look. I heard Khajiits are close to each other in this city."

"Yes, but..." A spark of inspiration appeared in her eyes. Nine-Toes smiled, her kind was always so easy to read. "No, wait, I think I know who to ask. Just one more thing, what Dunmer should I look for?"

"He was a bit young. Red hair. He was wearing bonemold armor and had an axe on his back."

Azirra smiled and patted his arm.

"Don't worry, Nine-Toes. I'll find the true murderer and clear your name. But promise me this..." She became very serious. "Don't try to give me more moon sugar as a reward when it's all over."

"That I can promise. I think I can came up with something better given enough time."

* * *

Azirra knew only three other Khajiits in Balmora. Ra'Virr the trader, Ajira the mage, and Habasi the thief. She was already aware that the latter two knew each other and that there were some sorts of meetings of those of her kind. In other words, Habasi more likely than not knew the suspect. She was already approaching the Southern Wall Cornerclub.

She actually felt quite confident about the task. Paradoxically, the traumatic events in Arkngthand helped her to get more confidence. Now she knew she could handle her own problems when things went pear-shaped. Besides, it wasn't her first investigation. She only hoped this time no one will die as well.

After entering the building and walking down the stairs to the main room, Azirra decided her sixth sense was getting better - there were two Khajiits sitting by the bar. One was Habasi. The other, covered in the same kind of armor as his superior, had his face planted on the counter and was groaning weakly. Next to him was sitting a disgruntled Bosmer.

"Stupid! Why did you run?!" He berated his companion. "Now everyone thinks we did it!"

"Shut up, Arathor!" growled Habasi and then looked at Azirra. "I'm sorry, friend, but whatever it is that you want to speak of must wait, we have a small crisis on our hands right now."

"Actually, I believe it's that crisis that I want to talk about. He's the one people saw running away from Hlaalo manor, right?"

A burly, bald Imperial, who up until now was standing silently near the opposite wall, glared at her with suspicion.

"You are asking some highly undesirable questions right now, outsider."

Habasi shook her head.

"Don't worry, Tappius. Habasi knows important people around here and she doubts Azirra here has any intention of making situation worse."

The young mage blinked a few times. Again. Time to start a counter for this.

"Since when am I one of the 'important people'?"

The thief leader smirked.

"This one doesn't know about you, but when one takes down a smuggling den all by themselves, Habasi believes they certainly are important."

Azirra's jaw dropped. She knows?

"Oh, don't look at Habasi like that. We are the thieves. When a closest group of wanna be criminals ends up eating the dirt, we know it." She took a bottle from the counter and gulped down what was left in it. "Mostly because Dar'shanji over here had to visit the ruins to get some Dwemer device. A certain _renrij_ from Hla Oad joined Camonna and we lost a shipment. Our Wet Ear said you really made a mess. Congratulations, although in our line of business it's not exactly something to be proud of. Thieves Guild is known for getting the goods without even alerting the target, not to mention killing."

The Bosmer smacked his fist on the counter.

"Not anymore, Habasi. The guards already know the brandy we stole is gone from the manor and that Khajiit thieves are always our Guild members if they don't work alone. It's only a matter of time before someone tracks Dar'shanji and..."

"Can you both PLEASE stop talking about me as if I wasn't here?" muttered the depressed Khajiit and looked at Azirra. He had green eyes and almost black fur with dark grey stripes. His left ear was pretty much completely gone. "Yes, I'm the one who was at the manor. I was tasked with obtaining an incredibly rare and valuable Vintage Brandy, the kind of alcohol that is reserved only for the richest nobles and kings. Our customer said Ralen Hlaalo had one bottle. The problem is, when I finally got inside, I found the owner's body in the living room. So, I grabbed the Vintage and escaped as fast as I could."

"I see... That means it's the Dunmer that was responsible."

The confused thieves looked at Azirra and she elaborated.

"Nine-Toes, the other suspect that asked me for help, mentioned that a Dunmer left the manor just before you made a scene." The Blade sent them a knowing look. "Someone kills a noble shortly before a thief enters the manor to steal a bottle of a very rare kind of brandy. Now, why does it sound suspicious to me?"

Habasi, unsurprisingly, was the first one to catch on. She growled.

"Damn it! We've been set up!"

Dar'shanji frowned.

"Camonna Tong... They requested the Vintage and then killed the noble so that I would become the first suspect. Now all those people who say that we are the lesser of the two evils will have to shut their mouth." His look of determination disappeared. "But how are we going to deal with it? We have no proof."

"We have a chance," stated Habasi. "We must find the real murderer and prove his connections to Camonna Tong. This way it will backfire on them and their reputation will be slandered even more." She faced the adventurer. "Is your friend willing to help, Azirra?"

"Certainly. He himself is in danger if the case won't be solved."

"Very well. Find him and together pay a visit to the investigator, she's probably in the Council Manor. Explain a situation to her. I heard that Sudione is understanding, though she's not the sharpest tool in the shed. Do we know who we are looking for, friend?"

"The Dunmer has red hair. He had bone mold armor and an axe when he was leaving the manor."

Habasi grinned.

"Good news, this one knows of him. Thanelen Velas, he's officially a smith. Bad news, you will most likely have to enter the Council Club itself, the main headquarters of Camonna Tong, to find him. Tappius, you will accompany them. You are the only one here with serious fighting skills and your group needs to look tough if we want to force Camonna to submit."

The Imperial only nodded. The Bosmer only got more suspicious.

"Just what is your angle? No one would help our Guild out of the goodness of their heart."

The mage snorted.

"I certainly wouldn't help without some payment if it weren't for a fact that I must point out the scapegoat anyway. Otherwise my friend Nine-Toes might end up in prison."

To be honest, Azirra herself wasn't sure why she accepted the fellow Blade's request. Sure, he was an ally, but not exactly a friend. Out of everyone she met so far in Morrowind, only Ajira could be called that (maybe Caius too, if she wasn't so dependent on him). Then again, if she did that for him, he sure would consider her a friend and only gods know how many friends she needed right now just to survive another month.

"It's not going to be enough, you know," said Azirra to Habasi. "Bringing some muscle will only make them more stubborn. They won't yield on their own territory."

"That's why we need to convince the investigator. If she will believe Velas is responsible, she will accompany you to the Council Club with some guards just in case he resists - and Camonna won't risk agitating the Hlaalu, they pretty much own Camonna. Make no mistake, Sudione isn't important enough to order everyone around, but since she was picked to solve the case, the guards will obey her when it comes to this. We simply do not have enough influence on our own."

Azirra nodded.

"I guess I'll get going. Wish me luck."

* * *

When Caius Cosades first explained her the local government and the Houses, Azirra created in her head pictures of a member of each of them. Redoran nobles would be massive and strong, with some scars. Telvanni were your typical mages, but, you know, weirder. Necromancy, long beards, living in massive towers, maybe an occasional skull instead of a hat. As for Hlaalu... Filthy rich, fat, sly and prideful bureaucrats. Turns out she was wrong at least when it comes to them - Redguard Sudione certainly wasn't prideful or rich, if one were to judge just by the way she spoke or her clothes. She wasn't fat, in fact she would be quite the hooker, excuse my Cyrodillic, if it weren't for her pug-like face. As for the 'sly' part...

Yes, she definitely wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't see any connection."

Azirra took a small break to calm herself down. The woman knew as much about the politics and the workings of the underworld as average cow. It was strange someone like her managed to advance twice amongst Hlaalu just in one month of her career.

"Miss Sudione, it is an open secret that the Council Club is the headquarters of Camonna Tong."

"I heard of them. What of it?"

"A noble is killed, Nine-Toes saw their member near the crime scene..." The Argonian waved his hand while standing to her left."...followed by a Khajiit thief, no doubt someone from the Thieves Guild. Camonna thugs are known for their brutality, while Thieves Guild is more tame. The conclusion should be obvious."

"I still don't understand what are you implying."

 _For gods' sake!_

"Camonna Tong is clearly responsible for Ralen Hlaalo's death. It's just too strange that the members of two enemy factions would pick the same day to pay him a visit. Thanelen Velas obviously tricked the guild into sending one of their thieves and murdered the noble just before he could arrive. This way the guild's slightly better reputation would crumble, allowing the Camonna Tong to get more support."

A look of understanding appeared on the Redguard's face. She was painfully easy to read.

"I see! It does make sense, definitely more than your Argonian friend breaking into the manor and getting caught by the victim. It also fits to what I've been told about that syndicate." Suddenly she frowned. "But what about the proof? Just because its logical it doesn't mean it's explained without any doubt."

"I was getting to that. We have a description of the Dunmer from Nine-Toes..."

"And from the servant, too. I questioned her myself."

Oh, yes. Get this: the servant of Ralen Hlaalo, Uryne Nirith, also saw a glimpse of the murderer, and yet Sudione hadn't even bothered to search for him, claiming there were probably many Dunmers in the city that fit the description.

"Yes. It fits Thanelen Velas perfectly, he didn't even disguise. As a result, we only need to walk up to him and say that the two gentlemen at my sides..." she pointed at the Imperial and Argonian. "...both saw him leaving the manor just a short time before servant's shouts alerted the people outside."

"...But it's only half true and a word of one person, a suspect at that, isn't enough."

"True, but he won't have a reason to believe we are bluffing if we will approach him in a confident manner and outright tell him to not try to escape since 'we know everything'. The people like him gloat when it's clear it's over for them, just to show what they think is their superiority. Once he admits he is responsible, you will be able to arrest him and close the case."

Azirra didn't have to think very long and hard to come up with this plan. It was sadly the only possible way to obtain the proof - she couldn't snoop around the manor for material evidence.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. He will be surprised we... you figured it out. A Dunmer won't easily notice another Dunmer doing something illegal in the crowd, but Argonians and Khajiits are remembered. Most locals wouldn't even hesitate to blame either when an opportunity shows itself. Sadly, for him, he didn't foresee you, a very competent investigator that isn't biased and wouldn't give up on getting to the bottom of this case."

 _Bleh, the underside of a boot tastes terribly. But now she has no choice but to comply, if only to stroke her ego._

Azirra's prediction turned out right. Sudione nodded and with a stupid smile stood up from behind her desk.

"An excellent suggestion, citizen. I will..."

A door to the small office they were standing in opened suddenly. A petite Argonian woman, dressed in not too expensive, but very nice dress, walked up to the desk in hurry.

"Sudione, I did what you asked for. You were right, it was all staged. I visited all my contacts and we found him, the bastard is at the Council... Club..." At this point Argonian halted, alarmed by the frozen face of the Redguard and stupefied glances of the other three people in the room. "I'm sorry, did I interrupted something important?"

In the meantime, Azirra had problems with figuring out what was going on. _What? The Redguard was actually searching for the Dunmer, even though she said she didn't? Hold on a minute, 'it was all staged'? The pug already figured that out even before we entered? Was she just feigning ignorance?_ The Khajiit narrowed her eyes while looking at the investigator, who was just getting over being caught with her hand in a cookie jar. _I should be more careful around her. That woman is much smarter than she looks._

"N-no, Gih-Deesei, dear. Everything is alright," she assured the Argonian. "Gih-Deesei, meet miss Azirra and her two friends, who happened to be vital witnesses in our investigation. Miss Azirra, this is Gih-Deesei Kaydesh, my good friend from Vivec."

"A pleasure."

"Likewise," answered Azirra.

"Now, as I was saying, since I have everything I need to close the case, I'll go to the Council Club with a few guards and arrest the criminal. Gih-Deesei, would you like to accompany me?"

"No, thank you Sudione. The murderers, crimes, violence... I just can't stand it, my friend. Makes me feel nauseous just thinking about it. But I wish you luck."

"As you wish. Miss Azirra, Mister Nine-Toes, Mister Esdrecus, I assume the three of you want to see it to the very end?"

Azirra hesitated. If she were to accompany Sudione, there was a big danger of being targeted by the syndicate for messing up their scheme. Then again, there was the possibility they either wouldn't bother or outright failed to find her later - just like she had sometimes problems telling apart one Argonian from another, Dunmers generally couldn't pick up on more subtle differences between Khajiits. The armor she was wearing (which she put on back in the Guild) would cover most of her face and make her look bigger than she actually was. Since she planned to exchange it for another, there was not even a danger of being recognized by it later on. Not to mention she wanted to know just how effective her plan was. If it failed, she needed to know as soon as possible to come up with something else.

"Sure."

"If I may," started Nine-Toes. "Can I request that our names won't be said while at the Council Club? I don't want to have a group of angry thugs knowing my name."

 _Woah, good thinking, Nine-Toes. I almost stepped on a lot of dung._

"But of course. Guards!"

* * *

Inventing a new shout was a pain in the ass, even if you had a name like Word Forging Guide.

In fact, it was a lot like coming up with said name, except Ted also had to make sure the three words could be shouted; hence they should have a simple meaning. Well, a simple to him. Other dragons most likely would be completely unable to understand the full concept of just one word that he was certain should end up in this shout.

Once it was noon, Ted got bored of searching for the right words (which, thankfully, was becoming easier with each day - his new draconic nature and probably also his name were making it easier for him) and decided to empower his Unrelenting Force by meditating on the meaning of balance and adding Ro to the shout. And boy, was he bothered by the results.

He just couldn't do it. It wasn't very easy to figure out Fus, but it wasn't so hard either. It was as if something was forcefully (gods, another pun) keeping him from learning.

"I really hope it's normal and other dragons simply had a more time to master Thu'um," muttered Ted. "That, or it's because of that maddening desire to scratch myself on the back that I can't get rid of."

Really, that was so far the worst part about being a dragon, right after living in solitude and boredom. Something's messing with your sense of touch and you want to scratch yourself? DEEEEENIIIIIEEEEED.

Well, at least he figured out his agenda for tomorrow and the next few days. _Since the Nerevarine remained at Fort Moonmoth to rest, then today she would report to Cosades. That meant she's going to explore a tomb tomorrow - after that there are no quests I could directly help her with until she meets Sul-Matuul. That gives me some time to prepare._

Sadly, the day was far from over and he was already bored.

 _How is Paarthurnax doing this? The silence is driving me crazy._

"Vile creature! Show yourself, so that I can smite you!"

Ted blinked and lifted his head. In front of the ruins stood a Dunmer with a bow in his hand, a quiver on his shoulder, a malachite (or glass, if you want to be stupid) sword on his hip, and pants as his only protection from indecency and everything the Morrowind was going to throw at him. It was clear this violent land was indeed throwing a lot of things his way, he had many scars on his body, though the face remained untouched save for one long gash.

"Came out, monster! I have promised to destroy all of your kin, and, I swear by Vivec, I'm going to succeed! Face me!"

Ted frowned. _A Blade? No, it can't be. There was no Dunmer Blade guy in Morrowind... I think. Then again, this is the real Tamriel. But what kind of Blade would swear on Tribunal gods instead of Divines? Hold on... could it be?_

"Go on! Attack this tasty, lone traveler, like many others! Just look at this massive back and firm buttocks, there's a lot of meat on me!"

 _I honestly don't know whether should I feel giddy at who am I meeting or awkward because of the way it happens._ Ted approached the edge of his nest-tower-thingy just as the Dunmer happened to look in his direction. The challenger slowly lowered his bow with a really stupid look on his face.

"You aren't a cliff racer."

 _Really? That's the first thing that comes to your mind?_ Ted smirked. He didn't know why, but for some reason that made the mer nervous. The Khajiit, too, in fact. Were they truly so unused to smiles in the land of Dunmers? At least those words removed all doubts when it came to his identity.

"Saint Jiub, I presume."

The Dunmer seemed baffled.

"Yes, I am Jiub... but why do you call me a saint?"

 _Crap. He isn't a saint yet. It was stupid of me, the dude arrived to Morrowind the same day the Nerevarine did. He had killed only a bunch of cliff racers so far at best._

"You came here to kill some cliff racers, correct? Well, anyone who does that only to destroy those pests is a saint in my eyes," lied Rotheimaak smoothly. Not that he had to strain himself to came up with this - making Jiub a saint for exterminating the worst enemy of all travelers was in his opinion one of Vivec's best decisions. "Or is it still a matter of time? Sometimes I can't tell apart what has already happened and what has yet to happen. A downside of my race."

"Are you a dragon?"

"I guess it's obvious. Your dedication to destroying those roadblocks pleases me, so I will honor you with an introduction, something I don't do for most mortals. I am Rotheimaak, the dragon of Red Mountain. A sage and seer."

The Dunmer slowly put the bow on his arm.

"I see... I must say, I sure am glad those rumors of Cliff King were wrong."

 _People saw me? Dammit. Also, why Cliff King of all possible names?_

"So, it appears I wasn't as stealthy on my flights as I hoped."

"The legionaries at the Fort took you for a massive cliff racer, so it's not that bad," comforted him the Dunmer. _What a strange man, to comfort a dragon._ "Where did you came from? I thought your species was extinct."

"Not completely, there are still a few _Dovahhe_ left, though none of them in areas that are easy to access." Fortunately, in his preparations for meeting the Nerevarine, he already came up with nice backstory for himself - he couldn't admit he was technically only few days old, what kind of advisor is that? "I was sleeping for centuries at the Red Mountain until my neighbor Dagoth started making ruckus. I kept telling him to turn the volume down on his radio, but the prick only made it louder. Gods these days."

 _I love it so much when they look at me like that_ , thought Ted as Jiub made an expression worthy of a meme.

"I think I need to go. I have many places to be at."

"Certainly. Farewell, cliff racer hunter, kill as many as you can. I have crash-landed because of them too many times."

 _Because even one crash-landing is too many_ , thought the dragon as the hero descended down the mountain.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 ** _renrij_ \- in Ta'agra, the language of Khajiits (yes, this language is very much canon) it means, depending on circumstances, 'mercenary', 'landless' or, like in this case, 'scum'.**

 **In this chapter I dumped a lot of info on you, especially if you haven't played the Morrowind. I also introduced a great deal of side protagonists (let's call them that from now). Azirra continues her hunt for information and get's involved into another investigation. In the original game this quest was more simplistic - no one even explained why people thought Nine-Toes was the murderer, they just did. He also wasn't the one giving you the quest - you could do that either by doing the tasks appointed by the first Hlaalu quest giver until this one came up or simply enter the manor to discover the body and get the entry in a journal.**

 **So... Ted met Jiub. Just like that. I certainly had no plans to include him anytime soon and yet here he is. He should be known to most of you - for Morrowind players he was the very first character we saw and for Skyrim players he could be encountered in the Soul Cairn (who wants to bet we will see him again in the future games?). The world of Elder Scrolls is very small - two heroes arrived to Vvardenfell on the same ship. As you see, in this story he is strangely fine with meeting a legendary being. In my headcanon Jiub is slightly insane. I mean, come on, what kind of person would pick the extermination of cliff racers as their life goal?**

 **I guess that's all for now. I'm afraid there might be some complications with updating shedule - sorry, but I struggle to find free time lately. Also, if you want Azirra/Ted to meet a specific character or visit some location, say so and maybe it will happen. See ya.**


	13. I am NOT a necromancer!

**Finally, chapter thirteen. First, answers to reviews.**

 ** _Graysoul_ \- Nah, it's cool man. I can tell apart hate-filled comments and true reviews. As for the mistake with Alduin, that's not a mistake at all - all sources before Skyrim insisted that Alduin is just a name given to Akatosh by Nords. It can be explained as Imperials misunderstanding Nord beliefes and it is approach I've taken here - if Azirra were to ask anyone but Nords, she would be told Alduin is nordic name of Akatosh. Sure, it's not the case, but it wouldn't be a first situation like that.**

 ** _Guest_ \- Heh. Windows runs programs and Sheogorath runs mortals. Let no one tell you otherwise.**

 ** _Lunar Loon_ \- Those flying rats are just disasters waiting to happen. Have you read the epic of Jiub? I cried and laughed at the same time when I was reading it.**

 ** _mk0008_ \- Sadly Ted can't make many appearances until he becomes Azirra's companion. Since he wants to take approach of mysterious Jedi master, it's gonna take some time.**

 ** _NoSkillzOnlyHax_ \- Exposition warnings, noted. And as insanely stupid and unlikely as it is, I would actually love it if Jiub found his way out of that pit to make appearances in future games. He would be like a great hero in which footsteps we would follow xD**

 ** _Accursius_ \- Maiq it is! Maybe not instantly, but the only canon game character that talks about living dragons is a must have.**

 ** _Charles506_ \- America's leader sure could learn a thing or two about xenophobia from proud Dunmer of Morrowind, no doubt about that.**

 ** _Mehrunes Dragonbro_ \- Really? Wow. I didn't know that. I'll make sure to take a look the next time I'll play Oblivion.**

 **Friends, we're going on a ride! Today we have arresting, disturbing visions, flying people and disrespecting the dead... Huh, when I put it like that it sounds as if it was an aftermath of a really nasty rock concert.**

* * *

The headquarters of Camonna Tong were surprisingly nice and tidy. They may have been racist murderers and the scourge of the city, but Azirra had to admit they had some style when it came to the interior design.

"What the... Get out of here, dirty cat, and take that lizard with you! We don't allow animals in here!"

Said superior design wasn't however making up for the fact all patrons had acid instead of saliva. Azirra, with her face hidden by her steel helmet, glared at the elf that sat at a nearby table and that was the one that decided to voice his displeasure. Interestingly enough, his hair was dyed red and he was wearing bone mold armor. _Saves us time, I suppose._

"Perhaps. But you better allow in the companions of an inspector."

The Dunmer was about to get into a proper shouting match, but the entrance of two guards and Sudione shut him up. The Redguard glanced at him.

"Are you Thanelen Velas?"

The man's shifty eyes started rapidly changing the object of their focus - first it was the guards, then Sudione, after that standing in front of him Nine-Toes with Azirra, and finally Tappius, who just happened to stand by the door in a pose that seemed to say 'No sir, I definitely didn't pick this spot just to make sure you can't escape, I just like to block the door for the people I follow'. Velas faced Sudione again.

"I am. What is this all about?"

"Witnesses, this man matches your description. Is he the one you saw?"

With some minor sadistic glee, Azirra noticed that the Dunmer got slightly nervous. Since she wanted to speak as little as possible, she just nodded. Nine-Toes didn't have that problem.

"Yes, that's him. He's the one that left the Hlaalo Manor."

Sudione smiled and gestured at one of the guards. He removed his sword from a scabbard and approached the soon-to-be prisoner.

"We already have all evidence we need. Do you have anything to say before these gentlemen put you in jail?"

For a second, the Dunmer was staring at them with an unreadable expression and Azirra got worried he saw through their act. That worry got stronger when he chuckled.

"To be honest, I'm surprised it took that long for you all to get here. It wasn't my plan and I knew it will most likely fail, but some bleeding heart amongst the big bosses tried to get the Guild out of the game with less killing involved." The murderer turned towards the stairs leading down, into the proper club. "Banor, this Hlaalu dog got me, as I said would happen. Inform the boss once the messenger is back."

"Sure thing, Velas," came the answer from below. Azirra frowned. They seemed awfully unconcerned their little scheme was destroyed.

"Quite stalling, criminal scum," grunted the guard.

"Oh, don't be so serious about all of this. Once I am in jail the magistrate will receive a nice gift from my friends and I'll be free." When Sudione opened her mouth, he quickly added: "You won't be able to do anything about this, outlander. Guess what, he has powerful friends. Much more powerful than you, that much is certain. Looks like you did all of that for nothing." The Dunmer smirked and looked at Azirra. "Still, our plan failed, so that's not really a true win for us. If it wasn't for you meddling kids..."

 _What is he going on about? I'm twenty-three._

"I guess we can go now. I'll see you all in some dark alley, n'wah," said calmly the Dunmer on his way out. A slight poke with a sword from the guard walking behind him cut his threats short. Nine-Toes, Azirra, Tappius and Sudione, the only people left in sight, glanced at each other.

"This whole Camonna is a pile of dragon dung." Azirra finally summered up their thoughts, annoyed from being unable to do anything about this.

* * *

After this not really satisfying ending to the investigation, each of them went their own way - Tappius went back to Cornerclub to inform Habasi her most promising recruit no longer has to hide in the basement, and Sudione returned to the Council House. Nine-Toes left after telling her to visit him next time she's in the area, since by then he should have been able to 'contact some people from whom she could learn a thing or two', as he put it. That left Azirra with only three things on today's agenda - selling armor, questioning the Orc mage, and checking for any guild work from Ajira.

Although she was already on more or less friendly terms with the blacksmith from Fighters Guild, she remembered she sold him the weapons taken from smugglers' den, and hence he didn't have much gold left. Instead she entered the building opposite of Mages Guildhall, which was a proper armory. A Bosmer behind the counter perked up at her entrance.

"Good afternoon! Welcome to Meldor's armory, the most popular shop of its kind in the city. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Azirra knocked on her breastplate. "I had to do some fighting recently and the armor I have is far from what I need. I was almost gutted by a group of smugglers because this made too much noise in the worst possible moment. I'm not some great brawler, I need something lighter and less noisy."

"Something lighter? Let me see..." The armorer started searching through one of the several big chests that were in the room. Meanwhile, Azirra eyed an interesting piece of armor that lied on a counter. And by interesting, I mean strange - it was clearly supposed to be a helmet, but in her opinion, it would look more natural in the depths of a sea, as a head of some ancient monster. Morrowind once again succeeded at weirding her out. "Here's my selection."

Meldor placed four bundles on the counter and opened the first one. The gear in it was, surprise, strange - it resembled a carapace of some massive bug, not an honest and classic armor. As it turns out, her suspicions about the origin of material weren't misguided.

"This is the bare minimum when it comes to protection, a complete set of netch armor. Very popular amongst the adventurers, since it's quite cheap for an armor. My price for all parts is six hundred septims, five hundred and seventy if you'll order bracers instead of gauntlets."

Azirra flinched. _That's for the cheapest armor on the market? No wonder smugglers were simply wearing clothes!_

"Next we have another set of netch armor, but this one was additionally boiled for better results. The price of all parts is seven hundred and twenty septims, and again, you can save thirty if you pick bracers instead of gauntlets. The same is for other armors."

Another bundle was opened. Inside was the same kind of armor Habasi was wearing - white, thin, and once again without any metal. _Are the blacksmiths of Vvardenfell incapable of metallurgy?_

"This is another very popular type or armor, a chitin. It's even lighter than the previous kind, making it the lightest armor there is, while the protection it offers is slightly better. The set with gauntlets costs eight hundred and fifty septims. There are no bracers for this type."

The Bosmer opened the last bundle, revealing to Azirra a set of armor she was already familiar with, a bone mold type, the one favoured by the guards.

"And this is the best armor available to most adventurers that do not want to be burdened too much. It's still quite heavy, since it's a middle ground between light and heavy armors, but bonemold armor provides much more protection than previous types, as it covers the entire body. The only downside is that it's weight takes some time to get used to... That, and the fact from time to time you might be confused for a guard, since it's so popular the professional Dunmer soldiers use it in the entirety of Vvardenfell, with the exception of Ordinators. Since it's that good, it's however also very, very expensive. I don't like guessing how rich my customers are, but know that few can afford a full set, so they usually only buy one piece of this kind at a time. Not surprising, few people walk around with three thousand and seven hundred septims in their pocket."

 _How much?!_ Azirra knew good armors were costly, but this was ridiculous.

"Don't you have, I don't know, elven armor?"

"Elven? That requires moonstone to make and sadly there are no moonstone deposits on the island. The import makes it unprofitable for most merchants to sell it," said the Bosmer, dashed her hopes.

 _Darn it. I always wanted to have a set of elven armor ever since I saw that battlemage in the tavern back in Kvatch._

"So, what is it going to be?"

* * *

 _It's actually not so bad_ , thought Azirra. She walked into the guildhall of Mages Guild with full set of chitin armor hidden under her robes. That was probably why traditional clothes of a mage were so loose. _It's quite comfortable_. Also, to her surprise, selling iron greaves and steel cuirass she no longer needed completely covered the purchase of the entire set without the helmet, she even gained ten septims on the exchange.

Why didn't she buy the headgear? Maybe because it looked silly. Maybe because some racist Dunmer forged it in a way that made it impossible for beast races to use. Or, as some would eloquently say, her head was too flat. Either way, she kept her steel helmet. Western and local styles clashed terribly, but that was the least of her worries.

"Friend!" exclaimed Ajira as soon as Azirra entered the main room. "You've been gone longer than this one expected, Ajira was getting worried again." The alchemist for a change was reading the book at the table amongst other mages, instead of sitting behind her desk in the smaller chamber away from everyone like a social outcast.

Not that Azirra had anything against people like that, for as long as she could remember, she too preferred being alone. Whenever she talked to anyone else for the last twenty years, she always had a strong belief they were better than her - comes with being a beggar. Hopefully it would change soon, she certainly could do without so much anxiety when talking to anyone.

"Greetings, Ajira. This one was slightly busy yesterday, Khajiit had to help a friend. You mentioned you might have some more work for Azirra by now."

"Ah, yes! It's about the second part of my flora report. I need more samples, this time from around the Lake Amaya."

A muscle near Azirra's left eye started twitching.

"Did you. Just ask. For more. Mushrooms?"

Ajira quickly shook her head, sensing the incoming danger.

"No, no, no, it's not about mushrooms! This time Ajira needs flowers, just flowers!"

"...Very well, if there's no danger of me sneezing out my brain, then this one will gather them. What exactly do you need?"

The other Khajiit clapped.

"First, this one needs Gold Kanet. It grows near rocks, has yellow flowers and broad, dark leaves. Ajira also needs petals of Stoneflower, they are small, blue and stems usually bend towards the ground. Third flower, Willow Anther, is tall and has purple petals. And finally, a simple Heather. It's pink, grows near the ground and has needles, you surely know."

"And they are near Lake Amaya, yes?"

"Indeed. It's north of Pelagiad. To get there, you must head south, past the Moonmoth Fort..."

Azirra lifted her hand in a gesture of silencing.

"Don't worry, this one bought a map. Azirra had a feeling this one will do a lot of traveling in the future."

"Oh. Alright." A short, awkward silence took place. Remember how Azirra thought Ajira was probably her only true friend? Forget it, turns out they don't know what to talk about when it wasn't about work. "Sooo... does Azirra know how to brew potions?"

Her ears perked up. Well, it wasn't exactly a fun way of spending time, but it wasn't directly connected to work either.

"This one knows a thing or two," admitted Azirra. When one is a beggar, it sure is useful to know which plant from the forest can fill your stomach and which one can fill your grave. And if you learned which ones combined increase your jump height so much you can just jump over a city's walls when things don't go your way, the better. "But this one learned on ingredients from Cyrodill. Those available around here surely are much different."

Ajira nodded with energy, thankful for accepting the topic.

"They are, hence why Ajira was researching some of them so that Mages Guild can one day publish an official manual on the subject. Do you want Ajira to show you the ropes? It's free of charge, this one has nothing else to do."

 _And so do I_ , thought Azirra. _Except for asking the Orc. I guess I'll take care of that first._

"Sure. Go ahead and prepare everything, I need to talk with Muzgob first."

"Muzgob? But she... Oh, oh, this one understands. Well, good luck convincing her to teach you anything. She's so worried about being labelled a necromancer she doesn't even offer most people to teach regular conjuration."

"This is not..." _No, wait, that's a pretty good excuse!_ "This one should at least try."

Ajira shrugged and went to the smaller room. Azirra approached Sharn gra-Muzgob. The older Orc was reading another book, and, as soon as it become clear to her the Khajiit wanted to talk, she looked at the younger mage with this pissed off look typical for all people that have to put away their favourite book because some idiot wants something from them.

"What is it?"

"Hello, Sharn. A friend of mine needs some information, and Hasphat Antabolis mentioned you would know the most on the subject."

The Orc blinked.

"Hasphat? But he's one of the few people that do not stubbornly believe I am a master necromancer. Which is not true, I assure you."

"...It's not about that. I was asking him about the subject of the Nerevarine..."

Sharn grimaced.

"Talk louder, why won't you? Look, this is only slightly better than talking about necromancy, not that I would know anything about it. The Nerevarine cult is outlawed because amongst its principles are hostility towards both the Temple and the Empire. It's not safe to speak of it even here in Balmora, which in theory is the most tolerant city on Vvardenfell."

"Is there perhaps some way in which I can make it worth the risk to tell me? Caius really needs to know," said Azirra, fully aware that old Orc simply refused her because she was in bad mood.

"You know Caius? That is a different matter then. You know how it works. A favor for favor."

"What do you need?"

"The skull of Llevule Andrano."

Azirra gave no verbal answer. Her face said everything.

"No, the skull is no longer attached to the rest of the body. No, I'm not a necromancer, get it into your head! It's just... Ugh, just go to his family tomb and bring it to me. There. That's what I want in exchange."

 _The things I do for the Empire..._

"Fine. But why in the world would you need some skull? Was he important?"

"No, he was no one special," stated Sharn in a voice that left no place to argue. "Just a journeyman enchanter. The tomb is south of Pelagiad, just follow the path to Seyda Neen, and you will see the entrance to your right. In case you didn't know, Dunmer tombs have... a peculiar shape, so you won't mistake it with a cave or an old mine, I heard there are some in the area."

"How will I recognize the skull? It's a tomb, I think there will be plenty of those around."

"That's easy. Only his skull will have ritual markings on it." Sharn glanced at Azirra's scabbard, barely visible under the long robe. "I see you already have an enchanted blade. Good. That's one of few ways in which you can take care of a ghost. Do you know any fire spells?"

"Only Firebite. I usually use shock and poison."

"Not really effective against the undead, especially the second. You know what, take these." Sharn reached into her pockets and pulled out four scrolls. "They are nothing special, just a few old scrolls I no longer need. Two of them are scrolls of Taldam's Scorcher, I guess you can figure out what they do. Works only on a single target on touch, but it's deadly. The other two are scrolls of Vitality, they act like healing potions, but work slowly."

"...Are you sure? They sound expensive..."

"Of course. They are cheap. I think. No idea, I made them for practice long time ago, I never checked how much they are worth. Was easy to make them, so probably not much. Besides, look around. What are the chances I'll need them when these days I no longer leave the city?"

Azirra decided not to question her logic. She felt she was going to make a profit from this.

"Thanks, I guess. I'll go for that skull tomorrow."

* * *

 _Azirra didn't know where she was, how did she get here and who was the person walking next to her, but there was one thing she was completely sure of - she was dying of fright. They were walking among the dead that were placed as if it was a wedding celebration._

 _There were voices. She heard voices even though no one spoke... Nobody but Him. Her tall companion, with face hidden by golden mask, was calmly speaking to each dead body they passed, cracking jokes and laughing, as if they were alive. It was then she realized she wasn't breathing and felt no need to do so - was she dead too?_

 _The whispers were getting louder. Louder and louder. At this point it has become impossible to hear the words of her friend. The voices were no longer whispering, now they were shouting. Some in joy, some in terror, all in pain. Azirra wanted to scream as well, but her lack of breath made it impossible._

 _The Dunmer in the golden mask took her hand and his nails... No, his long claws dug deep into her palm, drawing blood._

Azirra sat up abruptly. After a few seconds, she realized she was sitting in the same place she fell asleep - on her bunk in the guildhall in Balmora. There were no dead in sight, the same went for the masked man. The silence was disrupted not by whispers of spirits, but the obnoxious snoring of Galbedir. It was still night - even with the lack of windows she could tell that much since everyone else was still sleeping. _It was just a dream_. She grimaced and reached down with her hand to investigate a strange, unpleasant feeling.

Not just a dream. A dream that made her wet her bed.

* * *

Our Khajiit mage made a fatal mistake - she decided to walk to Pelagiad on foot.

 _It was unavoidable_ , she kept telling herself. _Sooner or later I will have to go to some forgotten ruin in the middle of nowhere, that's for sure. I might as well start on the quite safe path to get used to it._

 ***SQUAAAAWK!***

But there was no getting used to this.

"Another one?!" screeched Azirra, quickly rising the dwarven spear she was using as a walking stick. Her bloodshot eyes were scanning the horizon, but she saw nothing. The sound repeated, and this time the Khajiit looked straight up, only to see three cliff racers homing in on her.

"Oh, come on!"

Those beasts were, without any doubt, created by Sheogorath himself. They almost always attacked in groups, did so with great aggression, and often remained undetected until they were two seconds away from sinking their talons into a traveler's eyeballs. Azirra was slightly luckier than most outlanders facing Morrowind's greatest annoyance – her spear was perfect for defense against them, since unlike with a bow you could actually immediately defend yourself when surprised like that while not letting them close enough to maim your face, which is the case with swords. Then again, with a spear she could only stab at only one of them at time, that however was as close as one could get to the perfect weapon for defense against those flying rats - no one had ever invented a perfect tool for their extermination.

"JUSTICE FALLS FROM ABOOOOVEEEEEE!"

And then one of the cliff racers was decapitated midflight by a falling, half naked Dunmer. Just like that.

Azirra, in silence, watched as the elf quickly killed the other two beasts. She looked up and deduced that, unless it was another case of unexplained rain of mer, the fighter jumped from the cliff above. To kill a cliff racer.

She had a bad feeling he did it just for the pun.

"I am victorious once again!" exclaimed the Dunmer sheathing his blade. He bowed slightly to Azirra. "You can continue on your path, traveler. If you ever encounter a nest of those vile creatures, please inform a bartender from the nearest town, so that I, Jiub, can hear about it and destroy it."

It took Azirra several seconds to formulate a response.

"Who are you? Some kind of..." The word 'knight' couldn't get through her throat. Knights, as everyone knows, don't rescue damsels in distress while dressed only in pants and courage. "...professional cliff racer hunter?"

"There's sadly no such thing as a professional cliff racer hunter. No one wants to willingly look for these vermin." He smiled bitterly. "No one but me, that is. I have committed many sins in my life, and now, as a form of penance, I had sworn to any god that wants to listen that I will not rest at peace until the entire species of cliff racers goes extinct, even if I have to cause it by myself."

 _This man is drinking skooma. Either that or he is a saint._

"I appreciate the help. I wish you luck on your quest, mister Jiub."

"And I wish the same for you, whatever your quest might be."

Then the Dunmer walked away, traveling up the same path she was leaving behind. Azirra shook her head and continued her journey.

The second worst part of her trip was the terrain. Azirra happened to be of one of several breeds of Khajiit that had cat-like, not human-like feet. In other words, there were no shoes in her size. That meant that by walking on this route, which for a short part led through a foyada (a long indention formed by flowing lava), she ended up with her fur covered in ash. If walking through sand was anything like walking through ash, she had no idea how other Khajiits could actually miss the feeling after leaving Elsweyr.

Fortunately, that wasn't going to be a problem for long - after turning left on the next crossing and walking through a small pass, she discovered she was very close to Lake Amaya. She took a small break here to eat supplies she bought this morning and wash her feet, which by the way resulted in almost losing them to slaughterfishes (those pests were in her opinion an underwater version of cliff racers, that's how aggressive they were). Soon she was on the move again, picking plants along the way. She wasn't taking only those Ajira asked for, she planned to start making her own potions. She bought some new healing potions to replace the ones she drank in Arkngthand and one antidote (she wasn't going to forget her lesson anytime soon). It costed quite a bit - one hundred and twenty septims, and that's the price given to her by Ajira, others would surely demand more.

The rest of her trip was undisturbed and devoid of any interactions, that is if you don't count that strange, wealthy dressed woman standing on the sideline of the path. She took no action towards Azirra, and the Khajiit was fine with that - the Dunmer was sighing dreamily from time to time and whispering to herself how a handsome thief had stolen her jewels ( _Nothing out of order here_ , she thought), gold ( _The same_ ) and heart ( _...what a master thief!_ ). She had had enough weird meetings for today.

At last, after two hours of walking, she arrived to the town of Pelagiad, which was... let's say unimpressive. Just a tavern, few houses, two shops, and a fort. Since she was relatively well rested and not hungry, she decided she would visit the tavern on her way back. Because of this, Azirra continued on her path south, searching for an entrance to a tom...

"Azirra! Wait up!"

The voice was familiar, but she couldn't quite pinpoint the owner. She looked over her shoulder. A Khajiit was approaching her from the road leading directly to Pelagiad. He had dark fur and chitin armor.

 _It's that thief that almost got framed for that noble's death_ , realized Azirra. _What is he doing here?_ Habasi's underling closed the distance.

Azirra was no stranger to being way too close to people she didn't know very well. Oh, don't make that face, it's not about that. When you are a beggar from Kvatch, it's only natural to try to preserve heat during winter nights by snuggling up next to others who share the same fate. Thanks to this, Azirra usually had no problem to stay warm - because of her fur she was sometimes called 'a living blanket' by some dumber children in the band. But here and now? She only felt embarrassed that a taller male Khajiit had just glomped her.

"Greetings, Azirra," said the thief, finally letting her go. "I had no chance to thank you for helping me back in Balmora. My name is Dar'shanji, in case you had forgotten."

"Y-your welcome."

"By the way..." He tossed something at her and she caught it. It was her own coin purse. She frowned and looked at him with squinted eyes.

"Is stealing your idea of thanking someone?"

Dar'shanji only smirked mischievously.

"Not at all. I simply like to train my skills whenever possible. I would never steal from a friend." The thief stood back. "I was sent here to free another member of the Guild from the prison at fort, but I happened to notice you. I always remember when someone help me. Is there anything I can help you with, Azirra? I always pay my debts."

Azirra hesitated for a second.

"...Do you know how to fight?"

"I'm great with my claws and pretty good with a sword, if I can say so myself," stated with conviction the other Khajiit. "Why? Are you going for a fight?"

"Possibly. I... need to pick something up from a certain old Dunmer tomb for my friend. I think I'm well prepared, but I wouldn't mind some company."

"Count me in then, I don't mind doing that. Is it far from here?"

"No, I've been told it's just south of the town."

"Then I guess Bragor can wait a few hours, he's not going anywhere." Dar'shanji walked down the path to Vivec and Seyda Neen. "Shall we?"

* * *

Something was wrong.

Maybe it was the dead carcass of some big animal in front of the entrance. Maybe it was because said corpse lacked a head. Or maybe the fact that the entrance itself was slightly demolished on the sides and the door was open. Either way, Azirra was getting bad feelings about it.

"That's... not how Dunmer tombs usually look." Judging by Dar'shanji's comment, she wasn't the only one. Azirra walked up and opened the door wide. The corridor went straight only for a few meters and ended with stairs leading deeper into the tomb.

"Ready?" she asked him.

"I am always ready. I'll take the lead." Dar'shanji descended with his weapon drawn, while Azirra followed him. To her confusion, there were deep scratch marks in the walls, as if some abomination sinked its claws in it.

The first room was simple - it contained only a pile of ectoplasm, a small Tribunal shrine... and the corpse of a Dunmer adventurer. Needless to say, that reminder of how the mission could end made Azirra nervous. Still, that wasn't the worst part, which was how the body was damaged. Yes, there were signs of a magical attack, but who cares about it if the corpse was flattened? Really, it looked as if Mehrunes Dagon had manifested in the mortal plane and then stomped on someone.

"That... is strange," said Azirra. "I've never heard about an undead that could do that." She shared a look with her companion.

"There is a door to the right and a corridor to the left," pointed out Dar'shanji. "Which way should we go first?"

"Corridor. We will secure rooms later."

A minute later, after ignoring another door to their right, they found themselves in a rectangular room with small altars and ash pits under walls. Furthermore, there were bones of two skeletons on the floor. Judging by the lack of clothing and armor, but the presence of rusty swords, those were the undead guardians of the tomb.

Azirra was new to this adventure business, but from her... lessons back in that cave near Kvatch, she knew the undead formed naturally, and, if beaten undead is left alone for long enough, it will rise again. In other words, someone or something was here recently.

Also, those strange, long scratches in the walls of the corridor were making her nervous, since she couldn't explain why something would make them...

They continued. Passing another door, they entered another corridor leading out of the chamber and then down the stairs. For some reason, the scratch marks were absent there. Finally, the path ended with a door. They heard a particular sound from behind it. Azirra recognized it - the clattering of bones. Whatever attacked other undead spared this one.

"I guess now we explore rooms," whispered Dar'shanji. Azirra gestured at him to charge. The thief ran at the door and opened it with a kick.

And... the battle was over. The unfortunate skeleton was standing right behind the door and scattered all over the room as soon as it hit him.

"Really?" murmured Azirra. "That's it?"

Dar'shanji chuckled.

"Looks like it. What are we looking for, anyway?"

"A skull with ritual markings. I need to trade it for information."

"...Your informant has some serious problems."

A short inspection revealed no such object in the room. As a result, the two Khajiits returned to the last door and opened it. There was another corridor behind it, this time descending in a slope and slowly turning to the left.

At the bottom waited for them another pile of bones, and, which was more alarming, a butchered bone walker. It was crushed much like the Dunmer. To the right from this carnage was another door. The duo ignored it for now and continued down the corridor, which again ended with a door.

Before they had a chance to open it, the entrance opened on its own and a headless bone walker jumped at them from inside.

That fight, too, was a bit of a letdown. Dar'shanji kept hacking at it with a sword, while Azirra took one of the scrolls she received from Sharn, and, using the delay the thief provided for her, channeled its power. After that, she only had to overcome her disgust and tap the abomination on the chest, setting the entirety of it on fire. The rest of it sort of happened on its own.

The room they entered contained nothing of interest, excluding some alchemy ingredients left behind as gifts to the ancestors (taken by Azirra) and the Homilies of Blessed Almalexia.

"Habasi told me to get some new toilet paper," joked Dar'shanji and took the book.

They retreated back to the door next to what was left of the first bone walker and suddenly Ajira was again struck by a feeling of foreboding - if she focused enough, she could hear a deep, deep breathing behind it. And the undead aren't known for making such sound.

Whatever had mauled other enemies was waiting inside.

"Dar'shanji, wait." Azirra formed a triangle with her thumbs and forefingers. A few seconds later a bonewalker, for the moment docile, formed next to her. Besides the raised brow she got no reaction from her companion. "Go on."

Dar'shanji slowly approached, grasped the handle and pulled. The thief screamed and jumped away, pressing himself against the wall. Azirra's eye twitched.

"Peek-a-boo!"

The room was full of a laughing dragon.

"Ha ha! Guess who's been waiting behind this door the whole time? Yes, it's me!"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I know you had to wait long, but that's university life for you. There's another mostly finished chapter waiting in the freezer, it will be perfect to publish it in the middle of exams to not keep you waiting to July.**

 **Camonna is going down...! Or not. One member that will be released is no progress at all. The conflict between the Guild and Camonna might become an important thread in the future, we will see. Azirra now has a proper armor that actually increases her chances of survival instead of lowering them.**

 **A wild Jiub strikes again, once more without any warning. Seriously, this time I also didn't see that coming until last minute. I was thinking 'Alright, time to write about traveling to Pelagiad. What might happen when traveling in Morrowind...' and poof, cliff racers. And then poof, Jiub. I think it might become a trope in this fanfic. To those that are unaware, those flying rats actually are quite rare in this area, though it's not impossible to find them. The general rule is, the more mountains around and the closer you are to Red Mountain, the more cliff racers you can encounter. Also, a curious fact: the overpopulation of those assholes wasn't intended by Bethesda, they are actually a result of an error with monster spawning feature.**

 **Andrano Ancestral Tomb is a medium-sized dungeon with several treasures (mostly ingredients) and few enemies. In the game said enemies are an ancestral ghost, two bonewalkers and five skeletons. So the loot is quite good when compared to the obstacles. Furthermore, if I'm not mistaken, you can take the skull even before coming to Balmora - it's quite close to Seyda Neen and thus you can spare yourself more walking as long as you have something effective against undead (and dear God, walking is something we all hate in this game, especially after you played newer games - point for Skyrim).**

 **I guess that's all for now. See you next time, when Ted will again bullshit his way into main quest.**


	14. The day of an apprentice

**Hi! You were waiting once again, but sadly studies take priority. My beta reader also had some problems with sending me the edited chapter, was a jerk.**

 _ **Lunar**_ **Loon - The only kind of understanding possible between Ted and cliff racers is that they are sworn enemies. Cliff racers are stupid - they attack anything, no matter how strong the enemy is. If the dragon wasn't much faster, he would be forced to fight them all the time. You are exaggerating, there are only 17 breeds of Khajiit confirmed, with the possibility of few more. Azirra herself is Suthay-raht. Suthay (without raht) is the most cat-like biped Khajiit and is quite short (they are actually even shorter than the average Bosmer), while Suthay-raht are just like them, except they are actually tall enough to be taken seriously. So yes, Azirra is as cat-like as possible without making her a sentient saber-tooth lion (I hope no Senche or especially Senche-raht is reading this fanfic, I want to grow old before dying...). What happens if Ted meets Alduin? That's... actually a really good question. Given that Ted must live for two hundred years more before that happens, anything is possible - so far Ted is still mostly in his mortal mindset, but so much free time (and a certain god of madness) might drive him crazy. As he is right now, Ted would probably pretend to be an ally and then he would beat the crap out of Al on the Throat of the World, most likely with some cheap shot.**

 ** _Moikan Yoloko_ \- Lategame, sure, it was no longer a problem. But until you exploited all of that traveling in Morrowind was like walking on broken glass, painful with every step. Especially if you played Morrowind after Skyrim, like I did.**

 ** _Lazymanjones96_ \- Glad to hear it.**

 ** _Guest_ \- Dude, relax. Ted wasn't exactly hurt, even a papercut would hurt him more than that bandit did. He was more surprised he actually felt that hit than anything. Up to this point he was convinced he had a really awesome dream and when that was proven false, he simply panicked at being stranded in the middle of nowhere with some barbarian with a sword. The human mindset prevailed - he actually got scared even though he could easily squash that Dunmer. It's not a matter of dragons being weak, but of Ted being totally confused and no longer computing what was going on. In later chapter he was wiping the floor with skilled fighters just fine even with only two shouts learned, the only hiccups being the moments of stupidity on his part.**

 ** _NoSkillzOnlyHax_ \- Indeed. I have no idea who invented microwaves, but I must go back in time just to send him flowers.**

 ** _Charles506_ \- What can I say, Ted learned from the best. The best in this case being Gilgamesh from Final Fantasy V.**

 **Here we go, chapter fourteen. One that turns out great for Azirra and terribly for Rotheimaak.**

* * *

"Oh, the look on your _luft_ was priceless!"

Azirra, confused and angry, tried to drill a hole in the beast with her glare alone. However, to be honest, she wasn't really that surprised about seeing the dragon again, she expected it would happen... just not here.

"We are underground and those corridors aren't even two meters wide! How in the world did you even get in here?!"

"With great difficulty."

Azirra frowned as she realized why the walls were covered in scratches.

"Don't you dare to tell me you ate what I came here for."

"Oh, not at all. The skull is just fine, I made sure I moved to the side anything of value before I entered. It's a bit cramped here." The dragon pointed with his head at a small pile of ingredients, a book, a small treasure chest, some enchanted dagger and, thank gods, a skull with markings.

"Take whatever you want. By the way, that was one of the worst books I've ever read. Maybe the archcanon of the Tribunal Temple is a wise _joor_ , but he sure can't write a good sermon. Totally unworthy of my effort to turn the pages without hands."

"Y-you are a d-dragon!" Dar'shanji finally found his voice.

"I noticed," sarcastically answered the beast and then returned it's attention to Azirra, who was just putting the ingredients in her backpack. "A _fahdon_ of yours?"

"What?"

"A friend."

"...Kind of. Owed me a favour and wanted to help," mumbled Azirra, still a bit angry at being tracked by the mythical creature. She put the backpack on and looked the dragon in the eyes. "What is your problem? It's the third time you appeared where I need to go, are you following me?"

The dragon seemed to contemplate the question.

"It doesn't really count as following, if I'm always one step ahead, _geh_? One could even think you were following me."

 _That's it, I've had enough of him_. With an angry huff, Azirra turned around and marched out, heading for the exit. After a second she was joined by a still confused Dar'shanji. In the meantime, her bonewalker disappeared since her spell had came to an end.

"Hey, wait! I can't move that fast in here! I still haven't said everything I wanted to!" called the dragon after her. She ignored him.

After few seconds she climbed the last set of stairs and left through the main entrance.

"Azirra, what was all of that?"

"Just a dragon that likes to make stupid jokes and lift your expectations just to crush them."

"I... I guess you've met him before?"

She snorted.

"Twice. The first time he scared me to death, appearing right after a Bosmer wizard fell from the sky, he probably dropped him. The second time he tried to be all 'I know everything about you', only to crack a few terrible jokes in the end."

"Excuse me," suddenly, a new voice cut into the conversation. "I hope I'm not intruding at a bad time."

The two Khajiits turned. A male Dunmer walked up to them. He had a short, well trimmed beard, a mustache and brown hair. He was wearing a bonemold cuirass and boots, while his clothes were quite elegant. On his hip rested a scabbard with a dagger.

"Greetings. I am Nels Llendo, a noble, a gentleman, and a bandit for fun."

That introduction immediately made both Khajiits unsheathe their swords.

"Calm down, killing is an action that I take only if I can't win by charm and words. See, my weapon is still in its scabbard. I have a proposition, however first I would like to ask: are you spoken for, milady?"

After two seconds Azirra realized with a blush she was the only person in sight that he could be addressing. _Who in Oblivion uses that as a conversation starter?!_

"Err, n-no. But, why are you asking?"

"Ah, you see, I have a little rule when it comes to my hobby of banditry. No matter what happens, ladies will never get hurt. I may be a bandit, but I am gentleman first and foremost. I never ask them for money either. If they are not spoken for, then I do ask them... but for a kiss, not money."

The blush intensified. _Gods, why are you doing this to me?!_

"You've got to be joking," said Dar'shanji with a blank face.

"Not at all. I know many jokes, but I never tell any when I speak with a lady as Llendo the bandit."

 _Oh no, he's serious..._

"And you call yourself a gentleman? You force women to kiss you!" Dar'shanji seemed less than impressed.

"Wrong. Weren't you listening carefully? I said that ladies will never get hurt in my presence. If they agree, we both walk away with a good memory. If not, well, that just happens. Nels Llendo might be popular, but he knows not every woman is romantic enough to accept an embrace from an outlaw. I see no fault in that." Nels bowed and looked at Azirra. "Will you give me that honor, milady?"

Azirra smiled nervously. Her cheeks were burning and never before was she so thankful that Aedra gave her species fur.

"I-I'm sorry, b-but that would be my first and..."

"Ah, I see. I can respect that attitude, waiting for true love." he bowed again. Not quite what I wanted to say, but it'll do. "As for you, mister, since you are accompanying this lady, I'll not force you to pay, as I usually do with most men that face me on this road."

"Whyyyyyyyy?!" a sudden cry interrupted the strange conversation. "My ship just sunk! Oh, the cruel world!"

For the record, Nels' reaction was quite temperate, given the situation. At the sight of a dragon he merely took a step back and stared at him with his mouth open. The other two only glanced in confusion.

"What ship?" finally asked Dar'shanji. "We are not even on the coast."

The dragon ignored him.

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be..." he grumbled. "Alright, so we are outside again. Please, don't run away like that, err..." The giant lizard blinked in confusion. "I just realized I never asked about your name, _goraan Kaaz_."

"It's Azirra. And what does that even mean, you keep calling me... ' _Kaaz_ ', was it?"

"That's how we dragons refer both to Khajiit and a regular cat." Azirra snorted at that. _Of course it would be the same word._ "As for my name... I say it to few, since the name of a dragon is also three words of Thu'um and thus carries power that shouldn't be used too often. You, however? You should know it, you are worthy. I am _Rot_ - _Heim_ - _Aak_ , which means Word Forging Guide."

The mage furrowed her brows.

"So... you are a politician."

" _NID!_ " The word struck with a power of a thunder and everyone else covered their ears. "I am NOT a politician!"

Azirra hunched slightly. What just happened reminded her that, while he seemed friendly (maybe even a little too friendly), he could probably still kill everyone present without much effort.

"Well. Now that it's out of the way, let's get to important matters." Rotheimaak looked in the direction of the bandit and the thief. "I need to speak with Azirra in privacy."

The other two, who had much less experience with the dragon and were still under impression he was a volcano that might erupt at any moment, quickly nodded and made way for Pelagiad. Azirra looked with both annoyance and curiosity at the dragon, who was observing departing men.

 _You better have some answers instead of more jokes, lizard. That's the only reason I'm still here._

Finally, when he judged the other two were far enough away, he looked back at her.

"Before we begin, know that I can't tell you everything this instant. Some of these things might affect the _bok_ , era, in unexpected way if revealed too early or are simply not my secrets to reveal. Got it?"

She nodded. It's not like she had a choice if she wanted to learn anything.

"I believe I already mentioned to you that I am a seer of sorts. Being a son of the God of Time can do that to you. I just know when I encounter someone important. People with _suleyk_ , inner power, tend to put a pressure on the world, even if they don't try or are unaware of it. And you, Azirra, you are one such person."

"What are you talking about?"

" _Drem_. All in the right time. Whether you believe it or not, you are important. The change is coming, Morrowind will never be the same and you will be at the very center of it, I'm now sure of it. I sensed something is different about you when we first met and thus I dedicated my time to find out what it is. I wanted to be ready... and to be honest I also wanted to spice up my boring immortal life."

Azirra was slowly getting more upset.

"You are speaking in riddles again. If that's all you want to say, then we are done here."

"Don't be so hasty. As I said, not my place to tell you everything at one. Now, there are questions that you still don't know answers to. Why have you become a Blade?" Azirra's eyes widened. _He knows even THAT?_ "Why does the Spymaster wants you to investigate the Sixth House and Nerevarine cult? And why, of all people, did the Emperor himself gave you a pardon and release in Morrowind?" He sighed. "Do I know the answers? Yes. Can I tell them? No. All three will be answered by Caius Cosades. You just need to give him some more time and he will tell on his own, but not a moment earlier. By the time of our next meeting you will already know."

She sighed. _I guess this is better then nothing._

"It might not seem that way, but I do want to help you fulfill your destiny, even if it's still a mystery to you. If you want to face the challenges ahead, you must get stronger. Train, learn and prepare. I see you carry a spear and a sword... If you aren't good with them yet, find someone who will help you get better. Are you a member of any important faction?"

"I'm with the Mages Guild." _At least he doesn't really know anything about the Guild._

"Then learn many different spells. I've noticed you summoned an undead back in the tomb. Perhaps it would be wise to learn a thing or two from that necromancer Orc if you haven't already."

She smirked. _Never mind, he knows._

"Just because everyone knows she's one doesn't mean she will teach me anything.

"Oh, there's a way. You see, she has a book, 'Legions of the Dead'. Her copy is signed. Mentioning the book might be enough, though it would be more foolproof if you stole it and then gave it back. Oh, and give Ajira my regards."

 _This is getting stupid. He knows almost everything._

"Before I go, I have a small advice for you, it might help on your next mission. There's a bookstore in Foreign Quarter in Vivec, the owner is called Jobasha. If you need a book that is hard to find, he is the best source. It's certainly easier than, let's say, stealing a forbidden tome from a library at the Temple."

She gave him a suspicious look.

"That's a very... precise example."

"I have no idea what are you talking about," stated Rotheimaak with a smirk. "Also, the smugglers like to hide in the sewers, and the best way to get rid of a tax agent is to say his suspect boarded the ship for the mainland. Just a loose thought, don't give it much attention."

"Mhm."

Rotheimaak looked up into the sun. Azirra noticed that, unlike pretty much anyone else, he did so without a single blink, as if staring into a hole leading to Aetherius itself wasn't blinding him.

"I guess it's my time to go. I still have to arrange something with the Wise Woman of Erabenimsun, and I don't know how long it will take to get things done." He looked back at her. "Also, remember to not mention me to anyone, not that many people would believe you. Especially not Caius."

"And why is that?"

"... _Hi ni zok onik_. You clearly don't know the history of the faction you joined, _Kaaz_. While officially Blades are an order dedicated to _spaan_ , protect the Emperor, and are also secretly his spy network, they were founded as _Dovahkriide_ , dragonslayers. I would rather delay the inevitable clash with some fool that may want to kill a legendary beast out of some misguided sense of duty." Then, to her surprise, the dragon lowered his head in a... bow? "I wish you well, _kro_. Many fall, but one remains. _Pruzah nir!_ "

"Er, yes, thank you. And good luck to you too, Rotheimaak."

After their farewells, the dragon took to the air and disappeared behind the mountains, leaving Azirra to continue her trip to Pelagiad.

* * *

By the time she returned to Balmora, it was evening already. She would've been there earlier had Dar'shanji's friend, Ahnassi, not invited both of them for a dinner. She shared his trade, which didn't surprise Azirra too much - when you are a Khajiit yourself, you usually can tell how close to the stereotype another of your kind is. Needless to say, one couldn't get closer to it than Ahnassi. The mage also made a stop at the local pawnshop to sell the dagger she found in the tomb and a few Dwemer coins - her new friend assured her the owner collected such things. When questioned how he knew, he answered he stole some Dwemer device from his bedroom just before she arrived at the town so that he could get a leverage on a corrupted soldier from the local fort (she decided to not ask for details - it's not healthy to know too much about the business of thieves).

Once in Balmora, our Blade rookie immediately returned to the Mages Guild to exchange a body part of an enchanter and possible necromancer for information on a highly elusive and secretive cult that wanted to kick out a few gods and one holy empire from their homeland. Sharn fortunately confirmed it was the correct skull, which was a relief to Azirra - due to her irritation from meeting that dragon creep, as she sometimes called him in her thoughts, she left the tomb without checking all of the chambers, even though there could have been more than one skull with markings. She just assumed it was the correct one, since the supposed seer believed it was.

"Ah, it's preserved in good state. Perfect for what I have in mind," said Sharn, taking the skull. "Now, I believe you have some questions for me."

Azirra was already holding an empty scroll and a quill.

"Tell me about the Nerevarine cult."

 **[Exposition time, those that know the main quest of Morrowind even backwards can skip]**

"Before we get started on the cult itself, you must understand the difference between Ashlanders and Great Houses. At one point in time they were all tribes that arrived with the prophet Veloth to Morrowind after a disagreement with their cousins, who's present direct descendants are Altmer of Summerset Isles. The disagreement was of cultural and religious nature - Veloth and his tribes disliked the fact the Aldmer fully settled instead of continuing their traditional way of living, while their cousins despised them for the worship of Daedra. That's how the tribes arrived to Morrowind, which they called Resdayn.

"Those ancestors of Dunmer, called Chimer, were at the very beginning quite united in terms of religion and culture. The problems started to appear when some of the tribes built strongholds to settle down for good. The nomadic tribes started calling those large structures 'great houses' and the name remained to this very day, even if no house uses those strongholds anymore. There were also many wars amongst the tribes, and as a result only six major houses remained, along with several minor houses. The nomad tribes remain uncounted to this day, though only four of them are big enough to be of any importance. Settled and nomadic Chimer weren't trusting each other at all, in that regard nothing improved over the ages.

"When Azura revealed to Nerevar Indoril a secret plan of the Dwemer to build the artificial god Numidium, almost all big Chimer tribes and houses went to war against them to stop what they saw as blasphemy of highest order, with House Dagoth as the only exception. In the end, the Chimer won and Dwemer disappeared without a trace. Nerevar died and his three generals, known since then as the Tribunal, ascended to godhood and Chimer were changed into Dunmer. After this short alliance of tribals and settlers, everything went back to former hostility, no longer united by Hortator and common enemy.

"The Tribunal claimed their leader died of wounds he received in battle, but the Nerevarine cults believes they were actually directly responsible for his death. Furthermore, it is widely known amongst all Dunmer that Indoril had sworn upon his ring Moon-And-Star to daedric prince Azura and people of Resdayn to cast down the false gods of their homeland, which at the time meant Numidium. The divinity of Tribunal is questioned by all Ashlanders, so you can guess why the idea that Nerevar Indoril would come back to life to honor his promise appeared.

"There's one last thing one must understand when it comes to the Nerevarine cult. Just like all Ashlanders, its members believe in prophetic dreams and visions. They are passed down from one wise woman or shaman to another. I don't have to say what the Temple and Imperial Cult think about it, as it should be obvious to you."

"But... The Imperial Cult agrees that the Septim line has such abilities, right?"

"Of course. But at any given time there's only a few Septims and each of them is a descendant of Talos. In case you don't know, there's a rather big difference between them claiming they had a vision and some old Dunmer hag living in the middle of nowhere doing the same." Sharn chuckled. "If you have both money and power, you can get away with claiming almost anything. Back to the topic: there are quite a few of Nerevarine prophecies, but the most famous of them all is THE STRANGER." Sharn achieved the impossible and said the last two words in a way that left no doubt that they were meant to be written in big letters.

"Why big letters?"

"I don't know, it just is. Anyway, this is how it goes:

 _When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,_

 _And sleepers serve the seven curses,_

 _To the hearth there comes a stranger,_

 _Journeyed far 'neath moon and star._

 _Though stark-born to sire uncertain_

 _His aspect marks his certain fate._

 _Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him._

 _Prophets speak, but all deny._

 _Many trials make manifest_

 _The stranger's fate, the curses' bane._

 _Many touchstones try the stranger_

 _Many fall, but one remains._ "

That's when Azirra broke her quill. Sharn lifted an eyebrow when the Khajiit started to giggle. Somehow it didn't sound as if she was amused.

"...Are you alright?"

"...Knew that too... Oh, don't worry, I'm perfectly fine. Really."

"...Right. Anyway, there are three more Nerevarine prophecies, but they were lost to time due to carelessness or, as some believe, the deliberate action of Wise Women. Only the names are remembered: The Lost Prophecies, The Seven Curses and The Seven Visions of Seven Trials of the Incarnate. They might be actually still available, written down by priests of Tribunal or in memories of isolated Ashlanders. They might be also simply kept in secret by the Wise Women instead of being lost. I believe that's all I have for you."

"Very well." Azirra rolled her report. "Thanks."

 **[Exposition is over, everyone come out of the bunker.]**

 _Alright, mystic dragon,_ thought Azirra. _Time to see how useful your predictions are._

"There's another thing I would like to talk about."

"What is it?"

She glanced to the side and confirmed no one was in the range of hearing.

"I saw your book, The Legions of the Dead. The one with your signature."

For a second Azirra could have sworn that when Sharn's composure shattered into tiny pieces it did so with the sound of breaking glass.

"Sorry, Ajira's bad!" came from another room. Galbedir, incredibly angry and covered in some green ooze, stormed past them, chased by the Khajiit alchemist. "This one certainly did not intend to break a bottle of resin on you, honest!"

"Leave me alone, fur licker! I'll show you... I'll finish my experiment right away and you will see how badly outmatched you are!"

Sharn and Azirra looked back at each other and without words agreed to ignore the other mages.

"...So, it appears that you know, no point hiding now. What do you want in exchange for not telling anyone in the Temple?"

Azirra was puzzled by a tired, nearly monotonous way in which the necromancer said it.

"Aren't you worried?"

"Girl, you are the eighth person that pulled that trick on me just this month. There's a good reason why everyone always keeps calling me a necromancer, only to add afterwards that it's a joke." Sharn frowned. "The only thing that is a real joke is that the very people that oppose necromancy, the Temple and its believers, practice it whenever they have to bury their dead. It's ridiculous - sure, it's fine to them if you use your own grandfather as an eternal guardian for your family tomb, binding his soul for the rest of eternity, but when someone tries to acquire a body and do a few experiments for the sake of education, it's suddenly evil and blasphemy. Hmpf."

The Khajiit scratched her head.

"Look, can you just teach me something on the subject? I know how to summon a lesser bonewalker, but I could use more variety of backup in a fight."

"Ah, a fellow conjurer? Very well, I will teach you a spell. You already have a simple undead, how about a ghost against the enemies that have only physical attacks? Very effective against your average foolhardy Nord."

And that's when a not so distant sound of exploding false soul gem made all present mages laugh.

* * *

"Finally, some new intel," stated Caius, reading her report. "It's not surprising there are some prophecies about the Nerevarine, but so far my informants found none. Good work. By the way, what did Sharn asked about this time?"

"A skull of some Dunmer enchanter."

"A skull? Then she's only missing two ribs and a hip bone by now, unless I missed something."

Azirra opened her mouth and closed it after a moment - she had no desire to know more. Meanwhile Cosades finished reading and looked at her. He was deadly serious.

"Before we get to our next objective, we must talk about something else. I've heard what you have been up to recently."

"Y-you mean?"

 _This is bad, this is bad, he's angry at me!_

"Nine-Toes told me about your little investigation. How you risked revealing your ties to the Thieves Guild." Suddenly the frown was replaced by a smile. "Just joking, I'm happy you helped a fellow Blade without any order from me. But please, be more careful in the future, secrecy is our main tool."

"Noted." _Stop it, Caius. No, really, stop it. You are terrible at pranking._

"He also said to pay a visit to Flaenia Amiulusus, Hasphat's friend at the Fighters Guild. Something about his reward. In fact, I too believe you deserve something. You are doing your tasks swiftly and efficiently, so from now on you are a Blade Apprentice."

 _Huh. I guess I caught him in a good mood._

"Thank you. Does the new rank actually give me anything besides the better title no one outside of our circle of friends is allowed to know about?"

"I see your getting bolder... Not the same nervous Khajiit that I saw a few days ago. Morrowind may be harsh, but it has a good effect on you." Caius opened a book sitting on the table. "And yes, it does give you a bigger discount when using services of other Blades. Speaking of money, here, take those."

Azirra grabbed a coin purse he tossed at her.

"You may need it on your next mission. This time you are going to Vivec."

"Is it another task with finding the informants?" Although she did her best to hide her displeasure, some of it clearly was noticed by her superior.

"Most missions are about gathering information, Azirra. That's how we work. And be grateful it's just that, I don't think you are quite ready yet for anything serious. Trust me, when I actually do give you an order that requires you to fight, you will wish it was just another task about intel."

"I already DO have to fight. Those informants send me to some forgotten ruins filled with enemies."

Caius smiled again.

"This time it won't be a problem. There are three informants you must ask this time, but each already owes me a favour, so they shouldn't ask for anything in return."

"What are their names?"

"First, there's Addhiranirr, an operative from the Thieves Guild. She's probably somewhere at St. Olms Canton. Next, Huleeya, an assassin from Morag Tong, he likes to spend his time at Black Shalk Cornerclub in the Foreign Quarter. Third informant is a Temple priestess, Mehra Milo. She works in the library inside Temple Canton. And the most important part - DO NOT ask anyone about her. She's a good friend and in too much danger as it is, no need to draw attention to the fact she talks with outlanders. She has copper eyes and hair, so that's how you will recognize her."

"What do I need to ask them?"

"Ask about both the Nerevarine and Sixth House. Some will probably only know an answer to one question." He paused for a moment. "You're still here? What are you waiting for, get going!"

Azirra rolled her eyes and left Caius' house.

 _So, it's back to Vivec then. Could have been worse, at least I don't have to do much walking. Vivec is only one Guild teleportation away. I guess it's time to get that bowl now._

Ah, yes, the bowl. It was stupid.

Yesterday, after she gave Ajira the flowers she asked for (the award for them was six cheap potions of magicka restoration), the fellow Khajiit had no task for her. This morning, however, the alchemist asked her to get a ceramic bowl, of all possible items.

 _I still don't get why would she make a guild task out of this. So what if she wanted to speak with some mage, Ra'virr's shop is on the same street!_

* * *

Azirra entered the main room of the guild with the ceramic bowl in her hands. To her surprise, she was greeted by a sight of a panicking Ajira and Marayn Dren doing his best (and failing miserably) to calm her down. The other Khajiit was throwing all of the books from the bookcase on the floor, much to the ire of other mages.

"What's going on?"

"They're gone! My reports, gone!"

Azirra heard a laugh coming from upstairs.

"That, that Bosmer stole all my reports! Now Ajira can't give them to Athrys, and she'll lose the bet! This one will never hear the end of this!" shrieked the alchemist, setting aside a shelf and checking behind it.

The secret agent frowned.

"Is there nothing that can be done? I thought it was against the rules to steal from other members. Can we use that to get Galbedir expelled?"

The Dunmer wizard shook his head.

"It doesn't count if you aren't caught. We already got Athrys to agree to check Galbedir's desk and chest, but we didn't find the reports. We know, however, that she didn't have enough time to destroy them unnoticed and that she remained in the building since morning. She obviously put those reports somewhere to get herself some more time to replace the soul gem in her experiment."

Azirra put the bowl on the table.

"Alright, so we must hurry or we will have to put up with the prideful Bosmer for at least a few months. Ajira, no offense, but you won't find anything like that, you will only make a mess that is harder to search through. I have a better idea." The Blade lifted her hands above the head and clapped loudly, getting an attention of other mages. "Show of hands! Who wants to see Galbedir get knocked down a few pegs?"

Unsurprisingly, everyone lifted a hand.

* * *

By dividing the building into zones and leaving each mage to carefully search through one of them, they were able to locate both reports. Ajira was overjoyed, with Galbedir being obviously furious at pretty much everyone else. It got only worse when a courier with the soul gem package entered just five minutes after the alchemist gave the reports to Athrys and got herself promoted.

"That will teach her!" Ajira said proudly after she sat behind her desk. "Thank you for helping, everyone."

"It was a pleasure to help you."

"No problem."

"Mhm."

"Whatever, I have a book to read. This silly search already delayed me enough."

"But you do that everyday anyway, Sharn."

"Shut up, Dren."

The other mages returned to their own matters, while Azirra sat next to Ajira.

"Looks like we won once again against the forces of darkness," joked Azirra.

Ajira chuckled.

"Thank you, friend. This one thinks you deserve those..."

Three bottles found their way onto the desk.

"Oh, no, no, it's fine. It wasn't really that hard and I- sorry, Azirra hadn't really done more than the rest."

"That may be, but you need a reward so that it will count as a big work for the Guild. And if it will count as a big work for the Guild, it would be your third..."

For a second Azirra couldn't understand what Ajira was getting at, but finally her eyes widened.

"You mean..."

"That this can get you advanced? Yes."

The Mages Guild Associate without words opened her arms wide and hugged the Journeyman of the same organization.

"Alright, that's enough, you're making it more awkward than it has to be," mumbled the bashful alchemist. As the other mage detached herself, she added: "Besides, with the project done, Ajira no longer has any work for someone of low rank. You will have to look for work from Guild Stewards from now on. But... just a suggestion, don't bother with Archmage Trebonius or Athrys. He's a fool and she... well, Ajira had to work a lot just to get a task that didn't involve setting her enemies on fire, mostly Telvanni wizards... and they are much better at setting people on fire than Ajira. Ask Edwinna Elbert from Ald'ruhn instead, she's a friend of mine."

After a few more words, Azirra left the room and climbed the stairs to find Ranis Athrys.

"Greetings, Wizard Athrys."

"Ah, Associate... I was expecting you would want to talk to me sometime soon. It's about the advancement?"

"Correct."

"That's all I wanted to ask, Ajira already delivered the papers. You are now an Apprentice. Know that it is important advancement, for it means you are no longer some new member that might be thrown out for a small mistake. Your ties to the Guild are stronger and you can take jobs from the leaders of each guild hall. I hope you will make us proud, Apprentice Azirra."

"Many thanks. I will see you soon."

"A-khem."

Any traces of a smile disappeared from Azirra's face. She turned around.

"If you just helped Ajira, I wouldn't be mad at you, _Apprentice_ " said Galbedir through clenched teeth. Honestly, if she looked a little bit more fiery, anyone would mistake her for fire atronach. "She had a right to call for your aid. But to make everyone turn on me like that..."

"I hardly did anything. You can only blame yourself if the entire guild jumps in to spite you," stated Azirra calmly. She knew Galbedir had stronger bark than bite.

The Bosmer wizard seethed.

"You think you are so smart, huh? Probably think you will outrank me, too?! Well, know this - I never forget when someone tries to make me a laughing stock. Your days as a mage are counted, that's a promise." The short enchanter huffed once more and walked away.

Azirra and Athrys looked at each other.

"Twenty septims on her trying to steal something of mine to indiscriminate me."

"...I'm not foolish enough to make that wager, Apprentice. If there is one thing I've learned about her in the last few months, it's that Galbedir is a one trick guar."

Azirra shrugged, said goodbye to Athrys and left the building. She stopped for a moment to think.

 _I still have a half of a day left. I guess I could teleport to Vivec and try to find informants, but I think it would require more time than that. Besides, I have to wait a bit before I can show up in the Poor District again, I was there a lot lately... Hold on, I've got it! If I stop at Southern Wall Cornerclub on each of my visits to Caius, that should divert some attention. Anyone aware of both Caius 'problem' with skooma and that the club is the seat of power for the Thieves Guild would just assume I supply him. It's perfect!_

 _Speaking of Caius, he mentioned something about Nine-Toes arranging for me a meeting with someone at the Fighters Guild. I guess I should check this out._

She nodded to herself, took a step to the right and, already standing in front of the entrance to the hall (seriously, both guilds are close to each other in more ways than one), reached with her hand to open the door.

Fate had it that someone from the other side did the same a second earlier.

Clutching her head on the spot she was hit by the door, Azirra got knocked on the ground and cursed. The warrior responsible for this, an orc in steel plate and with warhammer on his back, only chuckled.

"What's the matter, kitty got hurt?"

Azirra glared at him with the eye not covered by hand.

"Well, I'm sorry," he said in a tone that left no doubt he wasn't. "Next time don't walk where real warriors tend to be, cat." With that he stepped over her and continued to walk wherever he intended to be.

Right after stepping on the tip of her tail.

"ARRRRGH!" screamed Azirra and grabbed her poor, slightly crushed tail. She hissed at the brute, who only chuckled and disappeared behind the building.

For a second, Khajiit contemplated her chances of finding the bastard again and successfully unleashing her scroll of Taldam's Scorcher right in his face, but one look at the nearby Hlaalu guard was enough for her to abandon this interesting plan. Forming a mob against a lone member of beast races came as natural to Dunmers as breathing.

The guild's blacksmith appeared in the entrance, probably to check what this commotion was all about.

"You alright, adventurer?"

"More or less. Some stupid orc just stepped on my tail on purpose," murmured Azirra while standing up.

"That was probably Gromlak Gro-Gharash. People like him give the Guild a bad name." The two walked inside. "What brings you here today?"

"A friend of mine said he arranged for me a meeting with someone. A woman named... Amiulus?"

"It's Amiulusus, actually. You will find her downstairs, in the training room."

"Thanks."

* * *

When Azirra entered the training room, she found Hasphat Antabolis talking with some woman, probably Amiulusus.

 _Why do Imperials have such pointlessly long, complicated names? Just 'Amiulus' would be fine, it already ends with an 's'._

"Speak of the daedra..." said bald trainer. "Good day to you. I assume Caius was satisfied with my information?"

"Good afternoon, Hasphat. Yes, he was. Say, the blacksmith upstairs said I'd find Amiulusus here..."

The woman nodded.

"That would be me. I assume you are the newbie my Argonian friend told me about?"

 _Newbie... Ugh. The worst part is, she's right. Even after those Dwemer ruins I know close to nothing in terms of combat._

"I guess so. I was told to meet you, but I wasn't told the reason."

Amiulusus smiled.

"Isn't that obvious? I'm a trainer of the Fighters Guild and we now stand in the training room. I owed Nine-Toes a favour, this is how I'm supposed to repay it."

"A training? A training in what?"

"I teach a little about blocking and athletics, but my main area of expertise are spears."

 _Right, Nine-Toes probably noticed it on my back and guessed I don't really know how to use it._

"A spear training sounds good to me. I don't really know how to use any weapon. I picked a spear because it doesn't actually require much skill to use."

"Doesn't require... oh Divines, you have a lot to learn." The trainer shook her head.

"Flaenia, before you bring our friend here to the state of total exhaustion, can I have a word with her?" After speaking, Hasphat put his hand on Azirra's shoulder and led her to a corner. "I think I discovered something that may be of interest to you."

"What exactly?"

"I was investigating that Dwemer puzzle you brought me and, while the minor damage it sustained made it difficult, I still managed to acquire schematics of something that is without any doubt a key." Antabolis opened a small chest in the corner and pulled out something that was probably a grandfather of your average keys to the city, you know, the ones Imperials give when they have to admit someone's importance without actually giving them anything important.

"How can you call it a key? It's at least half a meter long!"

"Oh, it is a key. It doesn't resemble anything else, even if it's very big. From what I gathered, it's the key to a Dwemer city."

 _Called it!_

"Which city? Wouldn't a Dwemer city be very famous?"

"I'm going to ignore that thoughtless question. For your knowledge, almost all Dwemer ruins were once cities, not counting the military and scientific outposts, which also weren't actually that far from being cities. As for the key, my best guess would be Arkngthand, since that's where the puzzle was. Have you encountered any door with a complicated lock in there?"

Azirra had a short flashback of the door eating her lockpicks.

"If by complicated you mean "absurdly well secured", then yes, I definitely did."

"Then feel welcomed to check what is behind them. I do not need the key or any additional funding, but you secret agents always seem willing to stockpile resources."

 _Returning to Arkngthand? No, thank you sir, I'm good._

"...I'll consider it." The Khajiit took the key, if only to be polite.

"Now then, I believe you have an appointment with my friend."

Azirra nodded and walked to the center of the room, where Flaenia Amiulusus already waited for her with a chitin spear in hand. The Blade pulled out her own.

"A dwarven weapon, huh? Not bad. It won't help you however if you don't know how to use it. We will start with blocking. Know it's not recommended to block with a normal spear, since wood is no good against a sharp sword. Those made of metal are better, but they can be still be damaged with very strong strikes. General rule of blocking, not only with spears: you block minor attacks, not powerful blows. Your weapon will last longer and you won't be staggered. When your enemy tries to overpower you like that, you need to dodge and exploit their momentum. Now we will test how good you are with blocking. Get ready. This spear is old and not as sharp, but it will still hurt when you get hit."

"...Can't we just use a blunt weapon, like a staff?"

The trainer smirked.

"Of course we could. But this way you will put more effort into learning."

 _My new trainer is a sadist. Wonderful._

* * *

Manirai was having a bad time.

When Rotheimaak appeared in the early afternoon at the Erabenimsun camp, the Wise Woman thought he merely wanted to talk about something. She was wrong.

The dragon wanted to talk while they were flying over the Red Mountain.

"Is this really necessary?!" shouted the Dunmer, holding the dragon's neck with all of her strength.

"Sorry, it's the shortest route!"

It was hard to even breath - the smoke from the volcano was everywhere. The visibility was terrible as well - she could see only the glow of lava, marking the crater itself. How Rotheimaak was finding his way through here was beyond her.

"I mean the whole trip!"

"I told you, I need you to speak with Nibani Maesa. As a fellow Wise Woman you will prove the authenticity of my words."

"You still haven't told me what it is you want to talk about, Thunder-Lizard."

A low grumble below her told her the new guardian spirit of Erabenimsum still wasn't fond of the name.

"You know, suddenly I found myself wanting to do a barrel roll."

"What is a barrel roll?"

"...Ugh. According to a certain badly informed game company, it's a maneuver in which a flying object spins so that for a moment he flies upside down."

"...DON'T."

"Then don't call me that stupid name. Answering your question, I found the Nerevarine. The problem is Nerevar was reborn not only as a female, but also as a _Kaaz_... sorry, Khajiit. Urshilaku are going to need some convincing to even give her a chance."

Manirai frowned.

"The Nerevarine is a cat? Surely you jest."

"Afraid not."

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"For the last time, yes. I can tell when I meet someone with such a strong connection to Fate. Only Heroes and gods are like that and Azirra definitely isn't a god."

The Wise Woman started to think intensely.

"What kind of person is she?"

"From what I've seen she is cautious, but not to the point of being a _nikriin_ , a coward. A bit shy, but only as long as someone doesn't try to press her buttons, that's when she gets angry. Now that I think about it, character wise she is exactly like your average Dunmer when you replace the feeling of _rel_ with meekness."

"I meant her skills. Her character may be important, but it won't help her defeat the false gods."

"Character is very important, Wise Woman. That's what pushes us forward... As for her _dun_ , I can not say for sure. I know she was strong enough to destroy an entire smuggler den by herself. She carries both a sword and a spear, but we won't know how good is she with either until we see her in _vukein_. I asked her about the organizations she is a member of and apparently she's in the Mages Guild, so that's probably her main area of interest."

Manirai nodded slowly.

"Smugglers aren't Ordinators, nor the spawn of Dagoth Ur, but it's a start."

"True. It's a good thing she still has a lot of time before she must face either. On her current level of strength they would pose a big danger. Even on my current level of strength they could be problematic, and I'm not exactly a pushover. They can be really..."

And that's when Murphy's law, in the form of massive fireball, struck Rotheimaak right in the wing.

"...FUCKING CURDS!"

Manirai barely managed to hold on when the dragon, destabilized by his wound, dived. She glanced in the direction from which the projectile came and saw a lone figure standing atop of one of Dwemer structures scattered on the mountain.

"Ash vampire..."

"OH, HE _IS_ GOING TO BE AN ASH WHEN I'M DONE WITH HIM, THAT'S FOR SURE! Uh oh..."

The dive turned into a free-fall.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"I can't help it! If I use only one wing... Err, remember how I was telling you about that barrel roll?"

Manirai's eyes shrinked from fear, and the two, screaming with all of their strength, plummeted from the sky towards the harsh, unforgiving ground... and lava, as if crashing into obsidian wasn't bad enough.

The crater of Red Mountain was getting closer.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **A cliffhanger... Forget Dagoth Ur, Mehrunes Dagon and Alduin, I am the true face of evil.**

 **Nels Llendo makes an appearance. I just had to. The first time I encountered him I was "oh, okay, a gentleman bandit, that's interesting". The second time however, when I was playing as a female character (because why not), he asked for a kiss and got me weired out. In case you didn't knew, the game actually pays attention to your gender - there's a number of instances when it makes your life easier if you are of the right gender.**

 **In the game you needed to steal Sharn's book in order to achieve anything and it wasn't easy. There's a number of people in the room and the lock has a high level. Doesn't really pay off, given relatively unimportant prize.**

 **We also saw the protagonist of Fighters Guild quest line. He's an asshole - he must be, given the quests. As for Flaenia Amiulusus, she's one of only two trainers for Spear skill, the other being the master trainer. Well, at least it's better than with Medium Armor skill - in vanilla there was no master trainer, the developers simply forgot to put her in the game. And finally, Azirra's efforts are noticed - she gets promoted both in Blades and Mages Guild.**

 **I finally found a nice way to give some more attention to Ted - a little adventure in the most dangerous area in the game, yay. Finally a challenge for him.**

 **Next chapter - Rotheimaak and Manirai's misadventures on Red Mountain and maybe, just maybe, also Azirra's mission in Vivec.**


	15. The land of tears and ashes

**Hi! Welcome to chapter fifteen. We've passed another milestone - the story already passed five thousand views some time ago and only now I noticed. At two thousand views milestone the fanfic reached top ten Nerevarine fics in terms of reviews, favourites and follows, now it's in top five. Will we reach the top three? I don't aim for anything higher, no one can even hope to win with the collossus at the top of the list without the Dragonborn in the tags.**

 ** _JaxiusTharn_ \- Thank you, I try my best.**

 ** _Guest_ \- The bandit gentleman is in the tavern in Pelagiad, that's where he would end up after sparing him in the game. Given that he offers training in Short Blade, Security and Sneaking, all skills that might be of importance to Azirra, he might turn up again in the story.**

 **Let's get started, shall we? With the last chapter, we finished the second 'act' of the story - from now on, while Balmora will remain Azirra's base of operations for some time, it will be no longer the place of her greatest focus, that will be moved to Ald'ruhn pretty soon. Hence, this chapter and the next one is sort of in between two arcs of the fanfic. Have fun.**

* * *

The world kept on spinning and everything was in shades of red. Ted grunted.

 _God dammit, I overdosed on Call of Duty again..._

"Rotheimaak! Get a hold of yourself!"

The dragon blinked and shook off dizziness as his eyes refocused. He and the Wise Woman of Erabenimsun, Manirai, were sitting at the bottom of very long path guiding to the top of the mountain which was hidden by a cloud of ashes. Speaking of ashes, they were wherever he looked - on him, on the Dunmer, in the air, and on the rocks. In the direction opposite of the volcanic cone stood a shining, magical barrier, made up of blue energy and the occasional tower. Ted faced Manirai.

"Did you get a number on that cliff racer?"

The blank look appeared on the shaman's face.

"What cliff racer?" She frowned. "Stop speaking nonsense, we are in big trouble!"

"Ugh, I know, I know." The dragon glanced at his wing. He had to give it to the Ash Vampire, he was a damn good sniper and powerful mage - the fireball, which shouldn't have damaged him as much when cast by a normal wizard, actually teared off the scales on the base of his wing, exposing the burnt flesh beneath them.

 _The bastard pulled off a freaking Dragon Brake from that one mod_ , thought Ted with a snarl. _That's not going to heal instantly._

"Rotheimaak, can you still fly? We need to get out of here, we're still inside the Ghostfence."

Ted nodded. He slowly flapped weakly with his damaged wing and then put it on the ground. The pain was minimal. _So far so good._

He flapped stronger.

He landed not a second later.

He cried from the pain.

" _Dur do deyra!_ " cursed the dragon. _Of course I would be grounded here of all places, of course! Why wouldn't I?!_

Manirai sighed.

"Is there a way for you to heal the injury?"

"No. If there's a _Thu'um_ capable of healing, I do not know it. We dragons _vokrii_ fast, but not fast enough to just sit here until I'm better." Rotheimaak lifted his belly from the ground, supporting himself only with wings and legs. "We need to move."

"Where? Those are the lands of Dagoth Ur, there are no safe places here..." Suddenly Manirai realized something. "You mentioned before that your nest used to be on Red Mountain. Do you know a good spot?"

 _Uh oh, it's bullshit time again!_

"Sorry, I can't help with that. I never bothered with searching for such places, there was no need for me to _vonun_ , hide, that much before Dagoth re-emerged. After he woke me up from a rather long nap, I just decided to leave since the neighborhood went to shit. I know there are Dwemer ruins all over the place, but they are probably even worse than staying in the open, that's probably where Dagoth is keeping his forces. I'm afraid our best chance is getting to the Ghostgate."

Manirai somehow frowned even more. Given that a face of a Dunmer is permanently scowling, it made it a frown to the third power.

"That's in the southern part of the Ghostfence. In which part are we?"

Ted looked at the slopes of the mountain (which, now that he looked at it, had a noticeable trail in it, as if something big and heavy tumbled down from the peak - he had a pretty good idea what it was) and the visible Ghostfence, before giving an answer that both of them were dreading.

"We are in the northern half. The mountain here isn't too steep to climb, and as far as I know, there's only one such place." He growled. "We have three paths to the Ghostgate: we follow the _Gaafdein_ east, we do that in the opposite direction, or we go the shortest path, through the _Sahquo_ - _Strunmah_ itself."

Manirai glared at him.

"We are close enough to the Devil as it is, we're not going to walk right next to the door to his citadel."

"Then I guess we will walk east... well, you will walk, I'll crawl. If my memory serves me right, there are less ruins on that miiraad, we will stand a better chance."

* * *

"I think I'm going to be sick."

It had been a few hours since their crash landing, and Ted was absolutely sure nothing could be worse than crawling through that place. Every few minutes they would encounter one of many abominations patrolling the mountain. They looked scary enough in the game, about as scary as average zombie, but here, in the flesh, they had more variety and detail, making them worthy of appearing in the most brutal of anime. The last enemy was particularly nasty - most of the body looked normal, but the right half of the face was kind of... melting, hanging from the other half, while in the place of left arm was a long, skinless appendage, that the monster was dragging behind himself and seemed to have no control over it... until he made a swing with it, grabbed Manirai by the throat from the distance of ten meters and lifted her in the air. Ted was forced to actually bite the monster to kill it. Believe it or not, the taste of flash infected with corprus disease was even worse than that of a normal one.

"Silence, dragon. I swear, you act more like a foolish, young boy that isn't even yet shaving than an ancient sage."

"I like to think I'm young in spirit, thank you very much," grumbled Ted, who did happen to still have problems with growing a beard, despite being an adult before he was forced to say goodbye to having a beard due to the race change. "The ash clouds are a bit redder over there, I think it's sunset."

The only thing worse than the attacks of monsters and the darkness was a sandstorm - Red Mountain was pretty much always attacked by one, probably as one more security measure put by Dagoth, since his corprus beasts certainly were incapable of complaining. Manirai was a little worse off than Rotheimaak when it came to that - apparently dragons, like some other lizards, had a secondary transparent eyelid, which protected the eyes well enough from the grains of sand, while the Dunmer was forced to endure the weather without even proper gear. Neither of them could see too far ahead, with only the glow of the Ghostfence being the only guide.

In other words, they were completely out of their depth. The only reason they survived this long was Rotheimaak's ridiculous strength, Manirai's spells and the dragon's effort to shield the Wise Woman from the brutal wind. Oh, and the relative weakness of their opponents - so far they met only melee fighters, no spellcasters. Ted was grateful for that much mercy, but at the same time was worried why was it the case - he expected to meet at least a few Ascended Sleepers on the way.

The answer to that question become obvious as soon as the sound of combat had managed to break through the howls of the wind. Manirai and Ted glanced at each other.

"Dagoth's beasts never fight amongst each other," stated the Dunmer, shielding her mouth with a hand. "We are not the only intruders in here."

Ted dedicated the entirety of his gray matter to deducing the most likely culprit.

"I will be very disappointed if it is some pilgrim searching for the Shrine of Pride. Only a noob would make such a mistake and walk through half of Red Mountain in search of a shrine that is right next to the entry."

"Rotheimaak, can you please stop using so many terms in that language of yours? It's hard to understand you at times."

"...No. Let's get going."

* * *

Enar Dralor dived behind a rock, barely avoiding another blast of fire. He cursed in Dunmeri.

"Why the spellcasters?! They should be the minority, not the entire force!"

A man clad in green armor flew just over his head, tossed through the air by a lucky spell. Enar jumped over the rock and charged towards the responsible Ash Ghoul, stumbling for a second when an Ash Slave almost hit him with some shock spell. As if that wasn't enough, the only Ascended Sleeper just knocked down the other knight and was preparing a spell.

It just wasn't fair. There were only three Buoyant Armigers and five minions of Dagoth Ur, all capable of magic. Even one versus one would be still challenging, since all abominations had increased power thanks to the Devil's dark powers.

"Salyn, get up, if you fall asleep here it will be sleep eternal!" shouted Enar to the soldier.

"I think I broke something..."

Suddenly, fate had it the situation wasn't bad enough, and from the ongoing sandstorm walked out an another Ascended Sleeper. Enar jumped aside, but this time failed to dodge the spell the new enemy casted.

"WRAAAAAA!"

The Dunmer twitched, weakened by the Greater Shockball. With a hiss of pain, he slowly pushed to stand up. A grey, slack tentacle appeared in front of his face and he slowly lifted his head. The Ascended Sleeper was looming over him, unnatural appendage slowly moving back and forth. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the sword. The abomination looked at him and decided to do what most Sleepers weren't capable of: mock him.

" _What are you doing? You have no idea. Poor animal. You struggle and fight and understand nothing._ "

"Wow. That, right there, is why I avoid hentai."

Out of nowhere, the sight of the monstrosity was replaced by a solid, brownish wall of scales. The confused fighter looked to the side and noticed his enemy hanging from the jaws of...

Enar blinked, but that was as much as he was allowed to do - his training kicked in and he immediately rolled away when an Ash Ghoul shot past him and started clawing at the massive creature, which dropped the Sleeper.

"Ouch! If you want to slap me on the ass, you must buy me a dinner first." The being hit the assailant with the tail, sending him flying into a boulder. "On second thought, don't do that. You have a big worm instead of a face, that's kind of off putting."

A loud sigh reached the warrior's ears when some old hag walked past him, casting a spell on the Ascended Sleeper, freezing him on the spot for a moment.

"Why have I made him the Guardian Beast of the tribe again?"

That was the breaking point for Enar Dralor.

"What is going on?!"

* * *

Drelyne Llenim groaned. If you were to wake up while lying on pointy, hard rocks that are moving, you would groan too.

 _Wait, moving?_

"Just for the record, I killed for lesser affronts than making me a beast of burden," resounded a deep voice beneath her.

Drelyne glanced in panic around her, at least as much as the pain in her chest allowed her. They were still surrounded by a sandstorm, so obviously they remained inside the Ghost Fence, but the scenery had changed, so they clearly moved her. Whatever she was lying on was big, very big, and covered in scales. And that, my friends, is never a good sign. In fact, the only worse way to start your day is by finding such creature in your bed.

"I hear someone hyperventilating, I think your _fahdon_ woke up."

The leader of the party, Enar Dralor, appeared in her field of view.

"Drelyne, are you alright?"

She did her best to calm herself down. The commander was present and he wasn't fighting, so they were safe at the moment.

"I am. What... is that thing?"

"Hi! I would give a long, impressive _tinvaak_ about my origin, how I am a son of a god and so on, but every time I open my mouth I'm forced to eat a spoonful of sand, so I'll just say I'm Rotheimaak."

"It didn't stop you from telling bad jokes, Thunder-Lizard," said a third person, one that Drelyne didn't recognize.

"It's... a dragon. Like the one on Empire's banners. He happened to be nearby."

"...Enar, were you drinking skooma?" asked the warrior, ignoring the rule of respect towards the commander for the first time in years.

"It is the sign of a fool to ignore something simply because it escapes their understanding," said the deep voice again, this time a little more seriously. "Also, we should move faster, I think I see another group over there. I would rather avoid eating any more corprus meat tonight. I think it tried to crawl out of my stomach."

"We didn't need that picture," mumbled another person. Drelyne recognized it was Salyn, a fighter that she wouldn't mind getting lost in the sandstorm. The woman tried to sit up, but the sudden pain in her chest made her re-think the decision.

"Careful. You have two broken ribs," warned her the other woman, whose identity remained a mystery. "I stabilized you, but had no time for actual healing. Stay where you are until we arrive at Ghostgate. Speaking of which, how close are we?"

"We're almost there. See that wide slope ahead? The Ghostgate is at the bottom, it's only a few minutes of march away."

"Uh..." started the so called dragon. "How long would it be if we ran?"

"We can't. We're limited to your own speed, Thunder-Lizard, since you're the slowest on the ground. And you crawl."

" _Deyra dok_... You see, that group I mentioned earlier... I think they spotted us."

Enar immediately glanced to the right. The look on his face confirmed Drelyne's fears.

"They're coming at us! At least twenty of them, I see all types! Wait... is that..."

"I knew he would show up to finish the job," growled the dragon and rapidly increased his speed, making Drelyne yelp as she was almost tossed off his back. "Double time everyone, I don't like our chances!"

"Sweet Almalexia, we're doomed!" Salyn was crying. The toughest, most stubborn bastard she knew was _crying_. "They have an Ash Vampire!"

The heart of a wounded Armiger stopped at the terrible news.

An Ash Vampire.

There were many abominations in the great army of the Devil. Even the weakest mutants were stronger than almost any man and they felt no pain except for the one their master made them feel. Fortunately, the madness and lack of any but the simplest tactics made it possible for a skilled fighter to beat them. The spellcasters were much worse - they made their madness into a sharp, deadly weapon by entirely focusing their very body on their current task, tossing aside all distractions in a way that no man could achieve. Those could be overwhelmed only by the very best, the Buoyant Armigers, the knightly order answering to Vivec himself. But that one terrible being, the Ash Vampire, was a death sentence for anyone but the greatest heroes.

There were many Dreamers, Ash Zombies, Ash Slaves and even Ascended Sleepers, but there were only seven Ash Vampires, even so long after Dagoth re-emerged on Red Mountain. The reason for that was simple - even if one were to best the Ash Vampire in combat, they wouldn't stay dead for long. It was a war without end - whatever evil magic kept Dagoth alive, it also brought the Ash Vampires back from the dead, not as shambling corpses at that, but truly alive, as if nothing happened. The reason for that was simple - besides being the actual brothers to Dagoth Ur, they were also his strongest generals. One Ash Vampire was worth more than an entire base full of corprus beasts and just as deadly, capable of both incredible feats of strength and destructive spells.

In other words, getting caught now meant death for all of them.

The mad dash down the mountain that ensued was the most terrible moment of her life, since she herself couldn't even focus on running. She was forced to watch in terror from the back of the dragon as the wave of beasts was running towards them from the crater, with the Ash Vampire himself hovering above the ground, shown by the red glow from the volcano. The most disturbing part was how human the monster seemed from that distance... until one were to look at the long, scythe-like talons that could cut armor as if it was paper.

"It's about time you came ba... WHAT IN THE NAME OF VIVEC IS THAT?!"

"Shut up, Selmen, and open the gate!" bellowed Enar.

"But..."

A fire spell hit the wall of Ghostgate above their heads, causing a big explosion in front of them. The other Dunmers jumped to the side, while the dragon stopped for a moment and started cursing in some strange language, clearly blinded by the flash.

"NOW!"

A loud screech resonated, its origin being the rising main gate.

"The second gate too, s'wit!"

"I can't! You know only one gate can be open at any time!"

"Rotheimaak, move! You're the last!"

The Armiger tightened her grip on one of the spines of her carrier. The fastest of abominations, the Ash Zombies, were only few meters away. Fortunately, the dragon was already stepping into the shadow of the Ghostgate.

"Lower the gate!"

Too late.

A gate fell on the backs of several corprus beasts, crushing them under its weight, but several managed to pass. Partially immobilized, Armiger pulled out her enchanted sword and did her best to fend off the attack of an Ash Zombie that had jumped onto dragon's back.

"Open the second gate! Ordinators, Armigers, to battle!"

Drelyne gasped when Rotheimaak hit the wall of the tunnel between the two gates, no doubt trying to shake off the corprus beasts trying to climb onto him. For some reason, Dagoth's minions completely abandoned attacking the Dunmers in favour of focusing on the dragon himself. The screech of the opening of second gate cut through the air.

"What have I ever done to you to pick on me of all people?! **_Iiz!_** "

A wave of freezing air ran over the enemies, trapping them in blocks of ice for two precious seconds. With a desperate swing, Drelyne cut off the foot of the remaining Ash Zombie, making him fall off the dragon. The pain in her chest intensified from the effort and her eyelids slowly dropped...

* * *

"The spellcasters are close! Everyone, get away from the tunnel, move the fight into the courtyard!"

 _I won't get there before zombie-wannabes jump me again. I must keep hitting them!_

Rotheimaak turned around, facing the first gate and the Ash Zombies, which were about to free themselves from the effects of his attack, and started to crawl backwards, towards the second gate. He opened his jaws.

" ** _Iiz!_** "

The attack hit both the Ash Zombies and the group of beasts that were stopped by the first gate, forcing them to the ground. He continued his crawl towards the safe zone. A few Armigers and Ordinators jumped from behind the corner with their bows in hand and fired several arrows into the frozen enemies. The dragon again prepared his magical attack.

" ** _Iiz!_** "

At this point, thanks to the combined power of dragon shouts and Dunmer archery, most Ash Zombies that had slipped out of Red Mountain were slain, while the crowd of abominations at the first gate was frozen so thoroughly it formed a solid barrier. Ted allowed himself for a smirk.

 _Damn. And that's just one word of the shout!_

The ice blockade exploded.

Ted blinked. The archers' hands started to shake. The mutilated bodies of Dagoth's minions were pushed aside by a telekinetic spell.

The Ash Vampire stood in the center, just behind the gate, glaring at the protectors of the Ghostgate through the bars.

At this, Ted couldn't stop his chuckle.

"So close and yet so far, eh? What are you going to do now?"

The warlock answered not with words, but with actions. The Ash Vampire reached with his hand past the bars. A green mist appeared between his claws.

Ted visibly sweat dropped.

 _Crap. Game logic doesn't work anymore, he can cast spells through the gate!_

"Get away! It's charging!

The dragon inhaled. _Have fun with the favourite shout of every cheater._

" ** _Iiz!_** "

The shout hit... and while some frost formed on the skin of Ash Vampire, it was its only effect on him.

"WHAT?! This is bull..."

The spell hit, and the dragon found himself tossed through the air, flying over the courtyard and gathered warriors, who scattered in panic. Rotheimaak hit the steep mountainside opposite of the Ghostgate and tumbled down it. He finally stopped at the bottom, in the middle of the road that connected the outpost to the rest of the world. He was staring forward with no expression on his snout. He glanced slowly around, with everything taking on vivid colors that belonged only to surrealist paintings and acid trips.

"I found the giants of Morrowind."

His head hit the ground.

* * *

 _Here I am. The city of Vivec._

After leaving the guildhall of the Mages Guild and entering the plaza, Azirra found herself a little lost. She had a total of three people to find. After spotting an empty corner next to the Guild, she leaned against the wall and pulled out a note she prepared the day before, when the names were still fresh in her memory.

 _"First informant: Huleeya (Argonian). Morag Tong assassin. Check Black Shalk Cornerclub at Foreign Quarter._

 _Second informant: Addhiranirr (Khajiit). Thieves Guild member. Probably at St. Olms Canton. According to Rothsomethingoranother, she's hiding in the sewers._

 _Third informant: Mehra Milo (Dunmer). A Temple priestess. Works at the library in Temple canton. Copper eyes and hair. NOT ask anyone about her._

 _Other: the tax agent can be persuaded to leave by telling him his target left for the mainland. Rare and forbidden books can be bought from Jobasha at Foreign Quarter. How and if it is related to the mission remains to be seen. Chances are it is."_

 _Looks like I'll start with checking that cornerclub_ , thought Azirra. _I hope this assassin really is there, I have no other lead on him._

After leaving the plaza through the gate and getting blinded by the sun, the mage walked for a minute, passing through the crowds of locals, which at the time weren't big - it was a relatively early hour. After getting to the slope leading to the lower level (apparently it was a slope rather than stairs for the sake of the traders from plaza) she found the entrance to one of the lower floors of the canton. That's when Azirra learned the Foreign Quarter had an additional floor - their Waistworks were divided into an upper and lower part. After questioning a merchant from the upper Waistworks (a much more preferable person to speak with than a nearby Ordinator, that's for sure), she was redirected to the lower level. Soon she was standing in front of a door with a sign of a black beetle hanging next to it. Azirra reached with her hand for the handle, but hesitated.

 _Come on, Azirra... There's nothing to be afraid of. You only have to convince a possibly homicidal Argonian that earns money by killing people._ The Khajiit made a sour face. _I'm terrible at motivating myself._

After a few more seconds, she finally gathered the courage and entered. The inside, when it came to the furnishings, was a fusion of Dunmer and Imperial styles, which was to be expected from a club in this canton of the city. It wasn't hard to find the person that most likely was her informant - there was only one Argonian in the room. He was talking... well, more like arguing with three Dunmers. She approached.

"Go back to your swamp, lizard. Or your plantation, wherever you came from."

"Stop testing my patience, Dunmer. My honor is the only thing that holds me back right now."

 _Oh. It's this kind of a talk._

"I'm sorry, are you Huleeya?" she asked.

The four men looked at her.

"I am. If you want to talk about something, I'm afraid it has to wait. These three... gentlemen are offended by a sight of a free Argonian, and won't leave me alone at the moment."

Azirra leveled her stare on the three thugs. It wasn't very effective - she was a single person against three, a fluffy one at that.

"Are you really going to cause trouble by attacking outlanders in the canton that happens to have the most of us?"

One of the men snorted.

"So? In case you haven't noticed, skooma junkie, five out of eight people in this club are Dunmers."

 _Skooma junkie? I think you are mistaking me with my boss._

"Perhaps. But the Argonian that you are angering happens to be an assassin and I'm pretty sure you already know that. That's why you are confident he won't fight, he's a professional that intends to do charm only to his targets. Let me ask you this: do you want to check how much you can annoy him before he runs you through?"

"Hmpf. Very well, I won't waste more time on animals like you. Favel, Urven, let's go."

The two of them observed how the Dunmer left the club, and Huleeya bowed slightly towards Azirra.

"Many thanks for solving this peacefully. Their hatred saddens and angers me. I hate the custom of despising another on account of their race, and I cannot forgive the narrowness of mind and poverty of spirit that assures them of their right to abuse and attack me out of spite or on a whim."

Azirra raised an eyebrow at this. _That's some flowery vocabulary for a killer._

"Is it normal around here?"

"Sadly, yes. Many Dunmers are old enough to remember the times before the Empire, and teach their children hatred for other races. It remains true even for many members of the House Hlaalu, as you just witnessed. But I digress. May I know your name?"

"I'm Azirra. I came on behalf of our common friend from Balmora. He said you owe him a favour and you might know about something we're researching right now."

"I see... In that case we should move this conversation to a more private place. My friend, Jobasha the Khajiit, has a bookstore, Jobasha's Rare Books. If you agree to travel together with me there, I will answer your questions."

 _Is he planning something? Also, that's surprising the dragon and an assassin happen to know the same bookseller._

"...Alright. Lead the way."

* * *

After the mage and the assassin left the club, the duo crossed the atrium and entered the corridor opposite to the one from which they came. At the very end of it was the door to the bookstore. They entered inside.

After turning behind the corner, the first thing Azirra saw was an Ordinator in full gear standing next to one of the shelves. That alone made her nervous - she just couldn't get used to those creepy, expressionless masks/helmets they were wearing. Fortunately, this particular guard seemed less focused on reminding outlanders that he was watching them and calling them scum, and instead was occupied with reading a book. If Huleeya was surprised by the presence of the warrior, he wasn't showing it - instead he just passed him and walked downstairs. Azirra followed.

This time, surprisingly, the view wasn't much better. Yes, there was a middle-aged male Khajiit in the back, probably Jobasha himself, but mirroring the Ordinator upstairs next to the bookshelves stood an assassin. This had to be an assassin, she was sure. The other Argonian was wearing a creepy black armor and had more visible weapons than Azirra touched in her life. For some reason, he looked familiar. Huleeya moved closer to greet his friends.

"Jobasha, Gih-Deesei, I'm sorry you had to wait. There were some complications."

 _Gih-Deesei... I'm pretty sure I heard that name before too._

"Oh, that is no problem. I had to talk with Jobasha anyway."

 _Oops. That's a she, not a he. I really should learn more about Argonians. And that voice... seriously, where and when did I met her?_

"Is that about the slave business?" Huleeya seemed disappointed. "Gih-Deesei, I told you, it's against the rules."

"You can take those rules and shove them where light doesn't reach. You hate slavery as much as I do, why do you insist on ignoring the problem?"

"It's not ignoring. It is not the way of Morag Tong to slay anyone except for targets or in self-defense."

"Bah. That honor of yours is useless if fellow Argonians suffer because of it... Anyway, who is it behind you?"

 _Hold on, I remember! I think it's that Argonian friend of the Hlaalu investigator. She acts and dresses different..._

"Hello, Gih-Deesei. Remember me?"

The Argonian squinted her eyes.

"You do look and sound familiar... Sorry, I can't say for sure. You Khajiit all look the same to me," stated Gih-Deesei and hastily added: "No offense."

"None taken," said Azirra.

"Some taken," murmured Jobasha.

"My name is Azirra, from the Mages Guild."

The bookseller looked at her in a strange way, while the assassin seemed sheepish.

"Oh, um... Surely you are wondering why I switched a frilly dress for an armor and twenty knives?"

"Not really. I already was suspecting Sudione had much broader connections than it seems." Azirra shrugged.

"Excuse Jobasha, you said you're Azirra correct? This one has a question..." Jobasha started and surprised the Khajiit with the next sentence. "Have you seen the Twin Lamps?"

Wasn't that the password of Twin Lamps? Ugh, what was the answer...?

"...They guide a path to freedom?"

Jobasha smiled.

"Im-Kilaya mentioned you in his letter. Are you up for a little job against the slavers?"

Azirra gave him an unimpressed look.

"...You do remember there is an Ordinator upstairs, right?"

To her surprise Jobasha only laughed.

"Don't worry. He was indeed sent here to spy on me, but they picked the wrong man for the job. I only had to show him the shelf with the copies of 'The Lusty Argonian Maid'. He reads them all the time, day, night... It's kind of creepy, actually."

 _Too much information._

"...In a moment. In need to speak with Huleeya first."

After both of them sat at the table, the Argonian decided to start.

"So, just to clarify, you work for Caius?"

"Correct. We are searching for the information on the Nerevarine and the Sixth House cult."

The last part seemed to surprise the assassin.

"Sixth House cult? I've never heard of such a thing. House Dagoth was the Sixth House, but in the War of the First Council they betrayed the other Great Houses and were destroyed for their treason. But I've never heard of anyone worshipping them. Dagoth Ur, the ancient head of House Dagoth, is the Devil of the Tribunal faith, but I've never heard of anyone worshipping him either. Nerevarine, however? That I know."

Azirra prepared the quill and an empty page.

 **[Exposition time, skip if you know the plot and don't care about immersion]**

"To understand the Nerevarine cult, you must understand the history of the Ashlanders. Nerevar means something very different to the Ashlanders from what it means to Dunmers of the Great Houses. You should also know about the persecution of the Nerevarine, and the legacy of the False Incarnate, for the Nerevarine cult is at the heart of the ancient conflict between the nomadic Ashlanders and the settled Great House Dunmer.

"If you were to ask the Ashlanders about the history behind the cult, they would tell you something like that: In ancient days, the Deep Elves and a great army of outlanders from the West came to steal the land of the Dunmers. In that time, Nerevar was the great khan and warleader of the House People, but he honored the ancient spirits and the tribal law, and became as one of them. So, when Nerevar pledged upon his great Ring of the Ancestors, One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star to honor the ways of the spirits and rights of the land, all the tribes joined the House People to fight a great battle at Red Mountain. Though many Dunmer, Tribesman and Houseman alike, died at Red Mountain, the Dwemer were defeated and their evil magicks destroyed, and the outlanders driven from the land. But after this great victory, the power-hungry khans of the Great Houses slew Nerevar in secret, and, setting themselves up as gods, neglected Nerevar's promises to the Tribes. But it is said that Nerevar will come again with his ring and cast down the false gods, and by the power of his ring will make good his promises to the tribes, to honor the spirits and drive the outsiders from the land.

"In the First Era, settled Dunmer clans and nomadic tribes were roughly equal in numbers and wealth. Under the civilized peace of the Grand Council, and with the strong central authority of the Temple, the economic and military power of the settled Dunmer quickly outstripped that of the nomadic Dunmer. The nomadic Dunmer were marginalized into the poorest, most hostile land, in particular into the Vvardenfell wastes. For the Ashlanders, the return of a reincarnated Nerevar represents a longed for and largely romanticized Golden Age of Nerevar's Peace, when the nomadic tribes enjoyed equality with the settled Dunmer, and before the Dunmer people had for the most part abandoned traditional ancestor worship for the autocratic theocracy of the Tribunal Temple.

"The Tribunal Temple regards the mysticism and prophecy of the Nerevarine cult as primitive superstition. The Ashlander Ancestor cults have always declared the worship of the living Dunmer as abominations, suspecting the unnatural lifetimes of the Tribunal to be signs of profane sorcery or necromancy. Though the authoritarian and intolerant Temple priesthood has always been inclined to tolerate Ashlander ancestor cult practices, they have always threatened Nerevarine claimants with death or imprisonment. And while generally tolerant of various cult worships, the Imperial Commission of the Occupation outlaws cults hostile to the Emperor and the Empire, and threatens members of such cults with imprisonment or death. The Ordinators are thus allowed a free hand when dealing with outlawed cults like the Nerevarines.

"In the past, others have claimed to be the reincarnated Nerevar of prophecy. The most recent is known as Peakstar, a mysterious figure who has reportedly appeared and disappeared among the Wastes tribes over the last thirty years. The Temple notes that these False Incarnates discredit the Nerevarine prophecies. Singularly, and illogically, the Ashlanders acknowledge a history of false claimants, calling them "Failed Incarnates," but they regard them as proof of the validity of the prophecies, rather than contradiction. Among the Nerevarines, there is a fable of a Cavern of the Incarnates, where the spirits of the Failed Incarnates dwell. The Nerevarine cult is a mystical cult and it glorifies, rather than shrinks from, contradictions. I believe that's all I can say to you on the subject."

 **[Exposition time is over]**

"Thank you for your time, Huleeya."

"It was not a problem at all. I hope you will find what you search for."

Azirra stood up and approached the other assassin and the bookseller.

"A Nerevarine cult, huh?" said Jobasha. "Not exactly my field of knowledge. I think I had some book on the subject... Anyway, do you want to hear our proposition?"

She nodded.

"As you probably know, it's pretty common for the smugglers to establish secret slave dens, where their victims are kept until they can be of use to them," said Gih-Deesei. "They usually also do some work for them in there, mostly mining. Slavery is sadly still legal, despite our leader's best efforts, so we can't do anything legally to the planters. The smugglers, however, are outlaws, because trading slaves _is_ illegal. Telvanni ignore even that, but we're far from their territory."

"You want to attack their hideout," guessed Azirra.

"Yes. I've recently learned of a small den, Hinnabi, on an island east from the city. I know for sure they have at least two Argonian slaves, and the smugglers aren't numerous. I've counted only four changing the shifts at the front entrance. Those numbers I like. If caught unaware, I can dispose of them easily enough, my poisoned darts would leave them defenseless. Still, I would feel more confident with someone to back me up in a direct fight. Are you up for this?"

The mage considered the proposition and asked about the most logical thing.

"What will we gain? That fuzzy feeling in my stomach after saving a few slaves is good, but it would be nice to have some compensation for a possible injury."

"Well, we will obviously also loot the place and split the profits equally. I heard you Khajiits are good when it comes to looting... Again, no offense."

"All taken," stated Azirra and Jobasha at the same time with bemused looks. The mage sighed. "I guess it's good enough for me, curse my good heart. Helping anyone is no fun when you know the only thing you can possibly get is a beatdown."

"True to that. Anyway, wait at the Temple dock at nine in the evening, I know someone who can give us a ride there."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Here we go, Ted is getting his first beatdown, mostly because Dagoth doesn't take kindly to overgrown cliff racers opening airlines and flying with passengers over his domain. Hopefully Rotheimaak will become more cautious from now on... Yeah, as if. xD**

 **In game Ash Vampires have a very limited set of moves - each of them has a strong melee attack, one touch spell and one distance spell, both have multiple effects. Each Vampire has his own combination of debuffs (and in one case two summons at once), but none has an elemental damage, only universal Damage Health, which is in fact worse, since no race is resistant against that. In other words, don't worry about getting hit with this ridiculous attack in game, that's my own idea. I mean, come on, those are brothers of Devil Under the Mountain, gotta level them up a little.**

 **Speaking of my own ideas, Jobasha doesn't give any quests in vanilla game. As a member of Twin Lamps, he will reward you with three skill books if you will free thirty (!) slaves, but that's all. I decided to make use of the fact Azirra was again meeting an abolitionist to give her a location of the closest slaver den. I also wanted to reveal Gih-Deesei's true nature and the combination resulted in Morag Tong assassin that fights against slavery... which I like. Most of these side-protagonists of mine seem a bit lacking in character to me. I also must admit I was lazy and what Huleeya says in the exposition part is pretty much copied from the in-game note he gives us.**

 **Also: coming up with good curses in Dovahzul is harder than licking your own elbow.**

 **In the next chapter: an aftermath of the clash at the Ghostgate and the second part of Azirra's mission in Vivec.**


	16. Into the sewer

**Sorry for the long wait, I was doing my internship in the last month and it seems my beta reader also is busy. In the end I decided that I will publish the chapter now rather than wait who knows how long for the edited version.**

 ** _Lunar Loon_ \- Chances are he will abuse his knowledge, he is simply that kind of person. A confrontation with Vivec is unavoidable - if Ted wants to become a companion of Azirra, meeting with him is only a matter of time.**

 **Guest - Obviously Ted can't win every time, that would be boring. It's sadly hard to arrange - it takes a warrior of extraordinary power to challenge a dragon, even a noob like Rotheimaak. I can't even throw a mammoth or a giant at him, as there are none in Morrowind. So our dragon protagonist will remain strong outside of Red Mountain region.**

 **Here we are, in chapter sixteen. I hope you will like it, even if there's not as much action as usually.**

* * *

The St. Olms Canton, located right next to the Temple Canton, was one of the most important locations for Vvardenfell's light industry. The Waistworks was filled with various trade halls and minor guilds. Fishermen, brewers, tailors, dyers, tanners, miners, manufacturers, farmers...there were shops in almost every canton, but if you wanted to have a wide selection in one place, this is where you had to go. It was probably the most crowded of all cantons, with the exception of Arena Canton on some days. It was also the hunting grounds for both the Camonna Tong and the Thieves Guild. Case in point—Azirra was recently forced to give some less-skilled pickpocket a knuckle sandwich. She watched with a scowl as the Bosmer disappeared into the crowd.

"I can see why she would pick this canton to hide," murmured the agent. "Even a daedroth would be hard to spot in here."

There was, however, one person that was sticking out of the crowd like a sore thumb: an Imperial in very lavish robes. While there were many goods to be found in the St. Olms Canton, none of them should be important enough to capture the attention of someone like that. Here, the traders mostly aimed to tend to the everyday needs of the city's population, so when one wanted to buy something more extraordinary, one had to find a specialized merchant in another canton. Also... the guy was already staring at Azirra when she spotted him, and now he was making his way towards her, pushing his way through the shoppers.

The young agent couldn't recall meeting him, so after a short moment of indecision she decided to stay where she stood, allowing the man to approach. If he had been moving any faster, she would have fled. Divines only knew how many enemies the Blades had.

"Good morning, miss," the man greeted, once he got through the crowd of Dunmer. "Could you help me with something? I'm looking for a friend of mine, a Khajiit named Addhiranirr. Have you seen her?" _Um...what am I supposed to say? I can't admit I know of her, since this might be a trap..._

"Addhiranirr? Sorry, this one doesn't know her." When in doubt, speak like any other Khajiit. "But this one will ask her friends about Khajiit, yes?"

"Oh, thank you. I guess I will search some more... I'll be around if you learn something. Just...don't tell her I'm looking for her, alright? I want it to be a surprise."

 _Surprise, huh? Looks like I made another good decision. I guess it's time to check those sewers. I hope it wasn't just another one of that dragon's jokes...it'll be terrible enough as is without factoring in the awful smell._

 _Hopefully, it won't be so bad._

* * *

Rotheimaak groaned and opened his eyes, which were immediately assaulted by the rays of the sun. The dragon ignored them—he was already aware of the fact that he could look at it just fine without damaging his eyesight, even if it was a bit bright.

"You're awake. Interesting. That makes you the first person who has taken an Ash Vampire's charged spell head-on and survived."

The dragon glanced to his side and found Manirai, the Wise Woman of the Erabenimsun, sitting amongst several other Ashlanders in a small camp. They were situated on a mountainside opposite of the Ghostgate. The sky was blue (definitely a rare occurrence in this area) and, given that the sun was visible despite the high mountains on both sides, it was probably noon already.

"Well, the other victims were Dunmer. Of course they would die from something that tossed me, the biggest living thing in Vvardenfell, as if it was nothing." Rotheimaak extended his wing. The wound was no longer visible; a layer of scales had already grown over it during the night. _Wolverine would be proud._ Ted lowered the wing, making a mental note to test if he could fly again later. "Did anything happen while I was out?"

"Not much. The attackers dispersed just as soon as you were hit; even an Ash Vampire can't attack the Ghostgate without a strategy and hope to win. Oh, and some Ordinator was also asking about you."

"Have you told him anything?"

"Only enough for him to leave me alone—that you are a Guardian Beast of my tribe and that we traveled together to visit another Wise Woman."

"Good. Who are your friends over there?"

"Ashlanders of many tribes. The settled Dunmer are proud of their Ghostgate and their fight against the Devil, but my people also have a crusade against him. From time to time each tribe sends a warrior to aid in the effort. A good training opportunity for future khans."

"I see...well, let's get going. I think I'm good to go, if a bit sore. I would rather avoid answering questions myself."

Ted smiled as they lifted from the ground with little effort. _Good. Now the other tribes will also hear about me before I approach them._ His smirk vanished as soon as it appeared. _It's a shame the same goes for the Temple. They will be a thorn in my side as soon as I reveal my connection to the Nerevarine cult. Oh well, I'll burn that bridge when I get to it. Unless the Blades or Vivec himself gets on my case, I should be fine... and given that nowadays he spends all of his time in his palace, it's only Caius and his underlings that I have to worry about._

He was wrong. Oh, he was so terribly wrong.

* * *

It wasn't that bad.

It was worse.

The collective fecal matter and all other kinds of waste from the entire canton was flowing down there and...and what? Azirra knew the... _water_ from here eventually ended up in the sea (hence why it wasn't recommended to swim around the city—that, and the slaughterfishes), but what happened in-between remained a mystery. A disgusting, smelly mystery that no one wanted to figure out.

Except for maybe that one woman in a full set of steel armor, who was charging in Azirra's direction with a sword raised in one hand. Azirra's eyes widened.

"What the...what are you doing?!" she shouted, backing away. The Dunmer woman ignored her question and continued running. Now, since it had become clear that there was no peaceful solution, Azirra braced herself and prepared a spell.

"You asked for this," she growled as a Greater Shockball collided with the enemy and brought her to her knees. Azirra walked closer with her spear in hand.

A few hours of training hadn't turned her into a master of this weapon, but she knew where to aim for the most damage and a nearly-immobilized enemy wasn't a challenging foe. She lifted the spear.

She thrusted (get your mind out of gutter).

A corpse dropped to the floor. Azirra sighed, still confused.

"What was that all about?"

The Khajiit decided to investigate the body to hopefully figure out the woman's motives for attacking a stranger. A quick search revealed nothing—no note with orders, no strange items or anything else. In fact, the Dunmer had, of all possible things, only a slightly squashed muffin in her pocket.

 _I guess I might as well loot the armor_ , thought Azirra somberly. Killing a slaver and various murderous smugglers weighted on her conscience less than this death—while the unknown attacker started the fight, the mage couldn't be certain what was the cause and if she really had to die. The possibility that she killed a good person because of a simple misunderstanding was frightening.

She nibbled on the muffin and the world become slightly less gloomy. Just like any Khajiit, Azirra loved sweets.

After removing the gauntlets, boots, pauldrons, and sword from the body—which she could pack without much problem—Azirra delved deeper into the sewers. The canalworks of the Vivec cantons were simple in construction—two main canals with up to two smaller connections between them, which were either submerged in...the water, or were big pipes almost (but not completely) above the level of the so-called water. Azirra obviously picked the latter to get to the second canal, doing her best to ignore the moisture on her feet. Finally, she noticed a figure in the dark and, obviously, asked the only possible question in this situation.

"What possessed you to hide here of all places, Addhiranirr?"

Addhiranirr was short even for a Khajiit of her breed; Azirra, who wasn't exactly a giant herself, was taller at least by a head. The informant was wearing simple clothing with no armor at all, not surprising given her trade.

"This one does not know you. Who are you?"

"I'm Azirra, I work for Caius."

"Ah, so the old man wants Addhiranirr to pay off her debt. Alright. But first, she has a request."

The mage frowned.

"Caius said all informants I was going to speak with in Vivec already owed him and shouldn't demand anything in return for the intel."

The thief scowled.

"Look around. Addhiranirr has been down here in this filth all day, putting up with overgrown rats and one skooma addict, all because of one stubborn taxman. This one needs him gone—redirect him somewhere. She will put in a good word with the grandmaster of the guild."

Azirra continued glaring, although no longer with so much intensity.

"Please?"

The agent groaned. Maybe her heart was too soft, but after spending just a few minutes in this place she had no intentions of making anyone stay here longer than was necessary.

* * *

"And?" asked Addhiranirr as soon as Azirra approached her again.

"You don't need to worry about him anymore. I told him you boarded the ship for the mainland."

"Oh, many thanks. Addhiranirr would be happy to help a friend of her good friend Caius. What is it that you need to know?"

Azirra was already holding some paper and a quill.

"Tell me what you know about the Nerevarine and the Sixth House."

"Addhiranirr knows nothing about the Nerevarine, because it is just a silly superstition. So, you tell Caius this: Nobody in her right mind pays any attention to this nonsense. Prophecies and ancient heroes reborn and other silliness. Fuzzy tales for little kitties."

"And the Sixth House?"

"This Addhiranirr knows about, because it is about smuggling. Some smart smugglers are suddenly too busy for their old clients, because they have a new employer, the Sixth House, who pays VERY well. But what do they smuggle now? Addhiranirr doesn't know, because they are very secretive. And this is odd, because these smugglers are always loud and full of bravado, and now they hush up like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats."

Azirra blinked. The Sixth House was involved in smuggling? That's a strange activity for a religious organization, even if it's an evil organization. She looked expectantly at the other Khajiit, but the thief seemed to not take the hint.

"And?"

"And what?"

"What more do you know?"

"That's all."

Azirra's glare was so powerful it could make a basilisk cry.

"You can _not_ be serious."

Any further talk was cut out by a roar from the depths of the canalworks, which made both Khajiits jump in fright.

"WHO DID THIS?! FIND THE KILLER!"

If this was an anime, the young agent would be sweatdropping right about now. She glanced at the thief...only to find air in her place. Confused, she looked around, but Addhiranirr was nowhere in sight.

"FOUND YOU!"

A group of three people appeared at the other end of the canal. All of them were armed. Azirra's eyes doubled in size when she noticed the weapon the thug in front was holding.

 _Is...is that a daedric sword?!_

"I'LL CRUSH YOU TO HONOR LORD MEHRUNES DAGON, CAT!"

"No," stated Azirra calmly as she started climbing the ladder to the Waistworks, which was fortunately only a few meters away. "No. No. No."

* * *

After losing three very pissed cultists (which fortunately wasn't that hard given that Ordinators didn't take kindly to people swinging around a daedric sword in public and screaming bloody murder), Azirra continued her mission of enlightenment in Temple Canton, which happened to stand right next to the St. Olms Canton.

 _Mehra Milo is working at the library...but where IS the library? Those entrances aren't marked, not even in this gibberish the Dunmer use to write._

She was just about to pick one at random and ask someone inside to redirect her, when she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw a familiar face.

"Oh! Hi, err...Layman Viralas, was it?"

"Actually, it's Acolyte now, but you're right. Say, what brings you to the Temple again, on this fine day? Have you perhaps reconsidered joining the flock of Vivec?"

 _Was he that annoying the first time I met him?_

Remond Viralas, an exception to the unspoken rule that all Dunmer had to frown all the time, hadn't changed much since she met him few a days ago. He still had the same worn-down gray robe that at one point was probably white and the fiery red hair that clashed with his station as a priest. The only new addition was the weapon on his back. Azirra's jaw dropped.

"Er, no...is...how can you carry a hammer that big? Even an Orc would have problems with using something of that size!"

"My faith gives me strength!"

 _Of course it does._

"Why do you even need that? You're a priest."

"A priest's duty is to guide lost souls to salvation...and smite evil no matter where and when he finds it. I am always ready to do both."

Azirra decided to ignore two-thirds of the enthusiastic Dunmer's declaration.

"Salvation is nice, but for now guidance to the library will be enough. Do you know where I can find it?"

"But of course! I was about to go there myself, in fact. Follow me."

Viralas guided her to the lower level of the canton and ushered her inside.

"So..." started Azirra, wanting to make the walk less silent and awkward. She did her best to remember what little she learned about the Temple hierarchy. "You're an Acolyte now, correct? That's one rank above the Layman?"

"No. There's Novice and Initiate between them—I was both of those much shorter than I was a Layman. I've done several major tasks since then: first, as tradition requires, I've tended to the ill both in body and mind. Later, I've shown compassion to an enemy of faith by curing a daedric cultist in some distant ruins. Then, after I banished a so-called Nerevarine from Suran, I went on an additional pilgrimage to Maar Gan and proceeded to taunt the Dremora stationed there to mimic Lord Vivec when he annoyed Mehrunes Dagon until he had thrown a boulder at him rather than the defenseless Dunmer. Just provoking him took a hour."

 _Uh huh, that's nice, I'm sure you're- WAIT A MINUTE._

"Whaaaat?"

"I know, right? An hour? Normally, a Dremora would jump at you after only one word, but this one clearly had a thick skull. When I kept calling him normal insults like s'wit, he only acted confused. I actually had to lower myself to insulting his mother to get a reaction, which is also strange, given that no daedroth has a mother. He, on the other hand, got all red and screamed something about...Layman Jerkins? The strangest battle cry I've ever heard."

"Not that, earlier! What was that right after the part about the cultist?" asked the Khajiit, while they were climbing the stairs to a higher floor.

"Oh, I was told to stop another self-proclaimed Nerevarine who revealed himself in Suran. A man by the name of Elvil Vidron claimed to be Nerevar reborn. I tried to persuade him to come back to our faith, however he persisted on living in sin. He spoke of prophetic visions and dreams of a man in golden mask..."

Azirra's tail swished to the side in anxiety. That sounded _way_ too close to that one dream she had recently.

"When it had become clear words wouldn't be enough, I attempted to arrest the heretic, however he managed to avoid my attack and escape. It...wasn't exactly a triumph. This dangerous person is still free, even if he no longer poisons the ears of the believers in Suran. If you happen to learn something new about him, let the Temple know, alright? Claiming to be the reincarnation of a saint is a terrible offense even without any other crimes."

Remond Viralas opened a door in front of them and pointed inside.

"Here we are."

The mage entered the hall, followed by the priest. The public library in Vivec consisted of only one room, but there was no denying it was on the larger side. Near the entrance were rows of reading tables, while further in she could see shelves. Besides a few civilians, the library was occupied by a small group of Ordinators and priests. Azirra nearly immediately spotted a woman with copper hair and eyes, standing in the middle.

"Welcome to the library...citizen," said a nearby Ordinator through clenched teeth. Azirra could only guess he had a sneer under that creepy, expressionless mask. "Rules are simple. You can read any book you want as long as its not in the restricted section—for that, you need permission from a high-ranked member of the Temple. Books do not leave the library, you do the reading here or you don't do it at all. Steal a book and there will be violence. Is that clear?"

"Books are worth more than blood, got it." Which was true—a book you could at least sell for two hundred septims.

"Good. I'm watching you," grumbled the guard while turning away. Her sensitive ears easily caught the last remark the Dunmer murmured under his breath. "...Scum."

Azirra glared at the back of his head and walked over to the priestess she assumed was her informant. To her surprise, Remond was already talking with her.

"Strange, isn't it?"

"I agree. When I did that pilgrimmage, the Dremora attacked as soon as I called him 'buckethead'. For a daedra to resist the temptation for so long..."

Azirra decided to wait a little bit until the woman was done talking. To hide her main intention of speaking with her, she approached one of the shelves and started checking the titles.

"'The Real Barenziah', 'Ancient Tales of the Dwemer', 'Palla'... 'Cap'n's Guide to the Fishy Stick'? What in Oblivion...?" she listed some silently and glanced at the last book. She shook her head. Who in the world would write a book about the history of fishy sticks and their impact on the economy of Tamriel? In the end she settled for 'Palla, first volume' and sat at one of the tables. Her ear twitched when she heard giggling.

 _Huh...so the priests of the Tribunal Temple don't have those kinds of restrictions_ , thought Azirra when she noticed the ginger Dunmer attempting to smooch the woman, only for her to halfheartedly push him away. _One point for Tribunal religion, I suppose._

As soon as Viralas left the library, Azirra stood up and went closer.

"Hello. Are you by chance Mehra Milo?"

The priestess nodded.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"My name's Azirra. Could you help me? I'm searching for a specific book." Not waiting for an answer, the agent leaned closer and whispered: "Caius sent me."

A spark of recognition appeared in Milo's eyes.

"I think I know where to find such a book. Follow me."

A few seconds later they were standing in front of a lectern with a massive book. Azirra placed an empty page on top of it and prepared a quill.

"So...you are one of Caius' friends, but which type?"

The Khajiit hesitated. Just how much should she tell?

"I'm his...subordinate."

"I see. Do not worry, I know he serves the Emperor. We are good friends. Despite being a Westerner he has come to love our land and its people. Just like me, he admires the best traditions of the Temple, such as our charity and education...and the fact we share our distrust of the arbitrary power of the Ordinators only makes our friendship stronger."

"Then I hope we will become good friends as well. From what I heard, the approach of the Temple to other beliefs is a bit...extreme."

"True. The Tribunal tolerates the Imperial Cult, but that's it—any less important religion, no matter how innocent in its foundations, will find itself struggling for survival on this island. The Temple's declining virtues are a threat to Morrowind's political stability...ah, but we're not here to discuss Temple doctrine, are we? What does Caius need this time?"

"Actually, the doctrine of the Temple might be a big part of the subject I need to research. What do you know about the Nerevarine and Sixth House cults?"

 **[The Exposition train has reached the station! But this time it's not like the original, so try to read it.]**

Mehra frowned.

"The Sixth House Cult...sorry, I don't know much about them and certainly not more than others. Its members are the Dunmer who lost their faith in the Tribunal and instead started worshipping the enemy of our faith, the Devil Under the Mountain. Nerevarine, on the other hand? That I can tell you about; it's a hot topic in the Temple, even if it's never openly discussed."

"Great. Where should we start?"

"From the basics, I guess. You're probably aware of this already, but know that Nerevar Indoril after his death was declared a saint and a hero that saved our nation in the darkest moment of our history. The Temple, however, does its best to destroy the heretics speaking of his return. The fact the Nerevarine cults call the Tribunal the false gods isn't helping. However, there is one religious faction that remains in hiding that is standing between the mainstream and Ashlander beliefs: the Dissident Priests. They are former members of the Temple, who dispute the doctrine and Nerevarine prophecies. If you want to learn more about the subject, they are the best direct source—unlike the Temple and Ashlanders, they rely more on sources and proof instead of faith alone."

"Is there a way for me to contact them?"

"I myself am searching for this group; I think I'm close. There's a book they published, 'Progress of Truth', which describes the views of all three sides of the conflict. I'm sure Caius would want to acquire it. I know we have one in the library, but you may find it hard to obtain. Buying it would be difficult as well—the Temple outlawed the possession of 'Progress'."

 _And here's why the dragon mentioned the bookstore owned by a rebellious member of the Twin Lamps._

"Don't worry, I know someone who either has it or can get it soon enough."

"That's a relief. I really want to help Caius, but I'm afraid I'm being watched by Ordinators."

That got Azirra's attention.

"Will you be alright?"

"Hopefully...but just in case, inform Cosades that if I find myself in trouble, I'll leave behind the codeword 'amaya'."

She nodded. _The name of that big lake? Well, there are worse passwords, I guess._

"What would happen if they caught you?"

"Given that I'm working in a public place and as such Ordinators would have to act professional during the arresting, I should be immediately placed in the Ministry of Truth above the canton, in Baar Dau. Until that moment I will be fine. After that... Well, nobody can tell for sure what is going on inside the moon."

Azirra looked worried.

"Why is the Temple so serious about the persecution of the Nerevarine?"

"I never fully understood why we waste so much energy on them. The faithful won't be moved by the proclamations of the Dissidents and the Ashlanders are ignorant savages that lost their entire religious influence many centuries ago. However, since the submission of Resdayn to the Empire, the faith of the Dunmer has weakened. That obviously caused a lot of frustration for the militant wing of the Temple. To put it shortly: since the Ordinators can't fight the Emperor, they will fight with those that can't fight back.

"But do you want to know what I discovered recently? The Dissident Priests claim that the power of the Tribunal may not be divine, but sorcerous in origin, maybe even akin to the one Dagoth Ur commands. If that is indeed the case, then the Temple's attitude to the heretics makes a lot of sense—you see, if the Tribunal's power doesn't come from divinity, then by logic they aren't capable of sustaining the Ghostfence all on their own. Have you ever heard that faith can move mountains? It is much more real than most people realize."

"Are you saying that it's the faith of the believers that powers the only barrier stopping Dagoth Ur from marching all over Vvardenfell?" asked Azirra, completely shocked.

"I don't know, but it makes sense. The Temple does everything to assure people they are strong, that their gods are strong. Anyone that studied the subject of religion knows that any god can become very powerful, no matter their original strength, as long as he obtains enough followers. Since Vivec willingly joined the Empire, many Dunmer no longer have any respect for him. Most members of House Indoril committed ritual suicide after the Armstice was established. Forgotten by their gods, who no longer appear outside of their palaces, seeing the outlanders in their own land, the presence of the Imperial Legion all over the island...in the face of those hardships the faith of the Dunmer falters. This makes the Tribunal weaker, which in turns makes Dagoth Ur grow stronger."

 **[The exposition train leaves the station.]**

"Well, you surely lifted my spirits with that last remark. I guess I'll go finish my other assignments. Thanks for the help."

"Good luck, Azirra. Give Caius my regards, alright?"

"Will do."

 _Time to go shopping. I wonder how much forbidden books cost?_

* * *

The book, surprisingly, wasn't as expensive as she thought—merely two hundred and fifty septims (according to Jobasha, doing the very thing that angers the Ordinators was a reward in and of itself). She left all her notes with Huleeya—it just wouldn't do to have them in her raid on the slavers' outpost, someone might damage them (or steal them from her cold, dead body...). Since she still had a few hours, she decided to check her equipment and resources.

She was pleased with the state of her belongings. She had on herself almost one thousand, seven hundred and fifty septims—a fortune for someone more settled and a good starting capital for an adventurer-slash-secret agent. Besides two weapons—an enchanted sword and a Dwemer spear—she had also two sets of clothes (for normal and special occasions) and almost a full set of chitin armor, with the exception of a steel helmet. She had a total of fifteen potion bottles, with five of them being healing ones and six others being capable of restoring her magical reserves. There were three scrolls, one of Taldam's Scorcher and two of vitality. For books, she had 'A Guide to Vvardenfell', 'War of the First Council' (I should return it to Caius next time, she thought), 'A Dance in Fire, vol. 4' and one of the many 'Lessons of Vivec'. She looked at all of them and decided that the last two had to go—she never started reading any series from the middle and she wasn't about to start. As for the words of the living god...Rotheimaak was right, it was gibberish. There were also two used-up spell tomes, no longer enchanted, but in a good enough state to put them back into circulation. She still had forty-five Dwemer coins, which equals over two-thousand and two-hundred septims when sold to a discreet trader or eight years in prison if said trader wasn't discreet. Also, she still had the weapon from that Dunmer that attacked her in the sewers, a steel one at that, so her coin purse was only going to get even fuller. And that's only what she had on herself—back at the Mages Guild in Balmora, in her desk was a steadily growing stock of ingredients, just waiting to be processed in her alembic.

Azirra realized with joy that, even if she barely avoided death on more than one occasion since her arrival to Morrowind, she was actually quickly becoming someone. She wasn't completely sure who exactly, but after being no one for over twenty years she embraced that change.

 _This is strange_ , she thought when packing her belongings into the backpack. _Back in Cyrodiil I could hardly earn enough septims to not die of starvation, but here I have earned easily several times more than ever before. The only difference was around eighty septims and being in a new place. How come I never achieved anything back in Kvatch?_

 _Maybe the old man was right and it's simply nearly impossible to become rich if you start out poor? The money from the release fee and Caius actually gave me something to build upon...and yet..._ She frowned slightly as she finished her preparations. _I...it somehow feels as if only now I truly started to live and everything before was but a dream. A terrible, terrible dream I no longer have to worry about._

An old memory resurfaced and a tiny smile appeared on her face.

 _I think Taahna would be proud._

"Azirra, are you alright?" The sudden question brought her back to reality. Jobasha was looking at her in confusion. "For a second, you seemed very distant."

"Oh, it's nothing."

 _Alright, the time for remembrance is over. Now that I no longer have to worry that much about my coin purse, I should do something about the lack of things to do in my free time._

"Jobasha, I think it's long overdue for me to buy something just because I want it, not because I need it. Say, do you have the book 'Palla'?

She would never admit it to anyone, but she loved bad romance stories. The beginning of the first volume she was reading back at the library was pretty good and while she suspected there was some mystery involved and the romance would become secondary later on, she deemed the book promising.

"Ah, 'Palla'...an interesting choice, that one is. Are you looking for the first or second volume?"

"The second. I intend to finish the first one at the library."

"Anything else?"

"Perhaps something on alchemy or the uses of magic in combat? Could be useful."

Jobasha disappeared behind the corner for a few seconds to return with two books.

"This, right here, is a bestseller in the field of tactics for a wizard, 'The Art of War Magic', written by Zurin Arctus, who was the royal battlemage of Tiber Septim. This one is afraid the book on alchemy for this province isn't as impressive due to the Telvanni's tendency to not share their knowledge and the Mages Guild is still working on a better manual. It does, however, contain a list of ingredients, with tips on how to obtain them, for the most basic potions. If one needs a place to start, this is a good place."

Azirra opened the tactics book to a random page and smiled at the first sentence she found.

"'The best victories are those unforeseen by the enemy, but obvious to everyone afterwards'." She remembered the events at Arkngthand. It probably wasn't what the great mage meant, but still... "I love this. How much for all three?"

"Well, given that you are a friend of Twin Lamps, Jobasha would say six hundred and fifty."

"Six hundred. I'm buying them in bulk, so I should get a discount."

"If Jobasha were to sell them for six hundred, he would make close to no profit—it costs a lot to make a book when everything must be written by hand by a monk. Whatever magic the Black Horse Courier uses is unknown to this one. Six hundred and forty."

"Six hundred and thirty and we have a deal."

"...Fine, two hundred and ten per book it is."

After stuffing all three books and selling 'A Dance in Fire' and 'Lessons of Vivec' for four hundred septims, Azirra left the bookstore and went to the plaza on top of the canton to sell off the unnecessary equipment she obtained. She got a very pretty septim for it—one thousand and one hundred of them, to be exact. The mage was still pretty sure the Redguard blacksmith bought it for much less than it was worth.

 _Alright, from now on, I will always loot armor whenever possible. This is obviously the key to great fortune._

Said great fortune was becoming too great—she seriously started to think she had way too much money on her. It was time to find a bank or maybe make some secret stashes. _Yesss, secret stashes. Every special agent needs a hideout somewhere and a safe location with resources prepared in case of trouble._

At this point, the only thing she had to sell (not counting the Dwemer coins, which she wasn't going to risk) were two used-up spell tomes.

The obvious choice for a buyer was someone from the Mages Guild—an enchanter only had to make a new enchantment to have a fully-working tome once again. As such, she directed her steps to the Mages Guild.

After selling the tomes for four hundred septims (she sadly couldn't buy anything—only those of Conjurer rank or higher were allowed to learn spells from mages at Vivec), Azirra remembered that this very guild hall was home to the Archmage of the Morrowind brand of the Mages Guild. To be honest, she wasn't really planning to get any tasks from him—the mages from Balmora pretty much openly stated that the man was disconnected from reality and had the intelligence of a toddler, with his jobs living up to such expectations.

So, obviously curious about the reasons for such devastating criticism, she decided to see what was he all about.

Once she walked down the stairs and entered the main room, Azirra immediately recognized the bald Imperial sitting on a nearby bench as the Archmage. The signs left no doubt in her mind. One, he was fat, the kind of fat that happens to those who never did honest work in their entire life. Two, his navy blue robe was made of the finest silk, making a clear statement about how nice his salary is. Three, he held a really, really tall shiny staff. No staff is this tall unless it is meant to show who is the boss or if the owner was compensating for something.

She wouldn't be surprised if in this case it was both.

"Good afternoon, sir."

The Imperial glanced at her. Given that back at Jobasha's she had exchanged her travel clothes for elegant robes, she looked just presentable enough to not make a fool of herself.

"Greetings. I believe I haven't seen you before. I am Archmage Trebonius, Guildmaster of the Vivec Mages Guild. Who might you be?"

"This one is Azirra, Apprentice of the Balmora Mages Guild. It is a pleasure to meet you, Archmage." Once again, the Khajiit way of speaking was put to use. "This one wonders, is there perhaps a task you need done?"

Trebonius stroked his pudgy chin—he had no beard to speak of.

"Hmm...a task, you say? Yes, there are several things the Mages Guild needs done. Let's see...hmm...find out why the Dwarves disappeared.. Yes, that's an excellent task for you, Apprentice."

Azirra's jaw dropped. She had expected something strange, but this man was impossible.

"I-I'm sorry, what?" she asked bluntly, not even noticing her slip up.

"It's a simple task, surely. Just go to some ruins and...erm...and find out what happened to them. Maybe some people here in the Mages Guild can give you some clues."

 _Sweet Mara. This is no mere stupidity. Skooma Cat's influence is strong in this one._

* * *

Skooma Cat, or Sheogorath, if you prefer his more popular name, was in a pretty good mood.

Granted, nothing could change as fast as his mood, so it didn't mean much, but the point stands that the Daedric Prince of Madness was rather content at the moment. And why wouldn't he be? The mortals were a bit more interesting these last few days, in no small part thanks to a certain dragon.

"Haskill, remind me to send a gift to my new champion, will you? I think his horns would look lovely with the heads of orphaned Argonians as earrings, don't you agree?"

Haskill, like always, provided only a mere acceptance of his fate as eternal chamberlain to the Mad God and gave an emotionless answer.

"I am certain that you know best, my lord."

"Of course I do! I always do...unless I feel like I don't." With this short exchange over, Sheogorath returned to granting fishy sticks to those mortals that he deemed worthy.

"My lord?" Started Haskill. As incredible as it sounds, he actually seemed interested—something that, rest assured, is about as common as a rain of burning dogs. It wasn't often he questioned his master's thought processes. "Why do you call him your champion? He wields no artifact of yours and doesn't even acknowledge you as his lord."

Sheogorath chuckled. On a completely unrelated note, a certain necromancer in High Rock just died a gruesome death by being squashed under tons of fishy sticks that just appeared in his lair.

"Haskill, Haskill...don't you see? It's like flowers and bees... Or was it badgers? Oh, doesn't matter. The point is, why would my champion need some fancy weapon of mine to act in my name? That's just silly—he's a dragon. And he certainly doesn't need to call me master to work for me. Just look at Vvardenfell! So many boring, sane mortals recently started to question their sanity just because they met my pet dragon. Does it truly matter if he listens if he fulfills his task anyway?"

"That is... a disturbingly sane way of thinking, my lord. Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm not! HE'S TAKING TOO LONG! If he doesn't start working faster, I'll force him to eat the Elder Scroll!" Just as soon as he exploded, the prince calmed down. "It's a good thing the others decided to spice things up. I swear, they can be so boring for aspects of change. I was losing hope in them." He clapped. "With a Daedric Prince after him, my champion should become more desperate. In other words, more entertaining to watch."

Sheogorath reached through time and space and grabbed an eyeball. It remained a mystery who owned it originally.

"Haskill, have you seen my eye spoon?"

"I'm afraid you left it in Meridia's realm during your last visit, my lord."

"Curses! Sent someone there, I need my spoon!"

Haskill sighed soundlessly and teleported away to do his lord's bidding. Another normal day in the Shivering Isles.

* * *

 **Looks like Ted has captured attention of more than one daedric prince... and it's the wrong kind of attention.**

 **If you wonder about the identity of the woman that attacked Azirra in the canalworks, know that she is a guard of a local daedric shrine. As far as I know, there are four such shrines in the sewers of Vivec, one for each Corner of the House of Troubles - a group consisting of Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, Malacath and Sheogorath, who supposedly are really annoyed by the Tribunal's power. For some time I wondered is I should have Azirra investigate the shrine, but the truth is she would be slaughtered - if I were to guess, I would say she's level five right now and in the shrine there were three more cultist, all quite dangerous.**

 **In the next chapter Azirra joins forces with Gih-Deesei to strike another blow against the slavery in Morrowind. Stay tuned... or something like that.**

 **UPDATE: chapter went through proofreading done by JDLENL.**


	17. Treasured liberty and liberated treasure

**Another long wait is over, but at least I have it for Christmas. Sorry, I really have a lot on my plate in this year.**

 ** _theuone_ \- Of course it's still going on. It's just that I'm on the third year of my studies, meaning I have to write a... what is it called in English, thesis? I'm not sure.**

 ** _Shadowpawzzz_ \- Happy to brighten your day.**

 ** _Hitler's_ _Mustache_ \- Certainly, kind sir. Here's your order.**

 **Guest - Good to know I'm doing this right, at first I wasn't sure I could pull off two protagonists without making one of them uninteresting.**

 ** _Jaxius Tharn_ \- You are right only about one of those things.**

 **Guest - Update? Sure I'll update. But soon? Er... Well, the next chapter is kind off almost ready, but I honestly have no idea when I'll be able to publish it.**

 ** _InsidiousAgent_ \- Oh, stop it, you're making me blush...**

 ** _Agastopia_ \- YUS!**

 ** _NoSkillzOnlyHax_ \- Well, I just couldn't avoid that joke forever.**

 ** _Accursius_ \- It's not just yet time for Azirra to meet Ashlanders, but that day is coming. And yes, the entire Tribunal is still around and they definitely won't sit idly during this entire mess.**

 **Welp, go ahead and have fun. Again, chapter without beta-reader - I'm still in the middle of looking for one, as the previous one has even less time this year than me.** **UPDATE: Not anymore! New proofreader, JDLENL, just went through the chapter, so it got a few fixes.**

* * *

Ted grunted as he landed without much grace. He glared at his wing as Manirai slowly left his back—she could cast spells as well as any other two-hundred-year-old mage, but even the best traditional Ashlander rituals can only do so much when it comes to preserving physical strength and endurance, so, while the dragon was grumpy about his injury, she did her best not to join him in his misery.

The muscles on the base of his wing were no longer uncovered, yes, but that didn't mean he had fully recovered. Originally Ted would be able to circle the entirety of Vvardenfell in a few hours without breaking a sweat, but their trip from the Ghostgate to the Urshilaku camp, extended slightly by the necessity to avoid Red Mountain and its trigger-happy host, took almost an entire day. True, he was still faster than any other mount or traveling method save for teleportation, but his inability to painlessly flap his wings with full strength was starting to piss him off. They also had to make two stops along the way so he wouldn't damage the wing further. The first stop happened to be just north-west of Ald'ruhn, while the second was on some nameless small mountain. The panicked shouts and screams of both the townsfolk and the legionaries at the nearby fort as he flew right over them only slightly raised his spirits.

"I still don't understand why you had to cause so much chaos in the city," grumbled Manirai as they both started walking/crawling north, where, according to both Ted's gaming memories and Wise Woman's friends from the Ghostgate camp, they would find the camp of the Urshilaku tribe.

"Because any dragon worth his _qah_ would do at least that," Ted stated casually. " _Dovahhe_ are the strongest beings in the _lein_ and the only reason we don't rule it is due to our lack of teamwork. I wanted to remind them of that." He remained silent for a few seconds. "Also, I really wanted to see how Dunmer look when they are so scared they might crap themselves...but your people really do seem to have only one expression. _Rinik tiiraaz_..."

"Fool. Now both settled elves and outlanders will know of you and maybe even expect the worst. Also, please, stop calling us Dunmer. The Houses may think this curse that twisted us was a blessing of Tribunal, but we Ashlanders know better and we never accepted this name. We're may not be Chimer anymore, but we are still Velothi."

"Getting exposed was kind of unavoidable. We made quite a ruckus at the Ghostgate and it's not only your _reyliik_ that goes there. This way, I could at least present myself the way I wanted to, not in whatever way Vivec would cook up. They know I'm strong and not afraid to use said _mulaag_ , but I won't attack without a reason. That will do for now."

By the time he had finished speaking, the duo had finished climbing up the long slope. With the terrain no longer limiting their sight, they were able to spot a rather big camp a few hundred meters away...as well as a row of Ashlanders with their bows aimed at them.

"Come no closer!" shouted one of the archers, obviously the leader. Sadly, Ted was unable to even tell them apart—except for the Wise Women and Khans everyone always looked the same in tribe to an outsider. "State your names and quest."

"I am Manirai, Wise Woman of Erabenimsun. I came to speak with the Wise Woman of your tribe."

"Aww, you didn't ask about the weight of an unloaded swallow, shame on you." His words, or maybe rather the ability of speech, shocked the tribals so much that one of them even accidently released his arrow, which bounced off of one of Ted's horns, not even making him flinch...much. "Watch it! You might hurt someone with that flying toothpick. Anyway, I am Rotheimaak, _Dovah Do Sahqo Strunmah_ , which in your language means..."

"...Dragon of Red Mountain."

" _Rinik_...wait, you speak _Dovahzul_?" A Dunmer that could speak his language? Now that was a shocker.

"We know of you, Rotheimaak...and what your return means to our land." The leader lowered his weapon and the others followed his example. The corners of the Dunmer's mouth lifted, which was as close to smiling as possible for him. "I can hardly believe it. Legendary dragon...but you look just like the statue, so it must be you."

If Ted didn't knew any better, he would think the guy just met a deity of his religion, or maybe even better—a real comic superhero.

"What statue? I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about."

A look of conflict appeared on the Ashlander's face.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I should be the one to explain everything to you. That would be the honor of our Khan and Wise Woman. By now they are both resting, though. I'm afraid you will have to wait until they can speak with you."

"Dude, you are cruel. You drop an information nuke on me and then tell me to wait until I finally get an explanation? What are you, a fanfic writer?" The dragon glanced to the left.

"...What?"

"Oh, don't mind me. I just act like that from time to time to make any potential observers from behind the fourth wall think I can actually see them."

"…"

* * *

"Here we are."

Azirra nodded to an old gondolier and stepped off the boat into the shallow water, barely reaching past her knees. She glanced at the shore of the island. It was nothing special - a few sharp rocks as a reminder of the volcanic activity, some ordinary plants and some less ordinary, but perfectly at home in the province of Morrowind, to her bemusement - even if the massive mushrooms didn't give her as serious an allergic reaction as normal ones.

However, there was one problem.

"I do not see Gih-Deesei anywhere."

"Not my problem," grumbled the old Dunmer. "As promised, I'll be here at dawn. If you aren't here at that time, you will have to return to the city on your own."

The Khajiit nodded as the boat set sail for Vivec. The mage once again looked over the island, but again no Argonian assassin was spotted. She wasn't amused.

"The old goat said she told him she'd already be here. Where's she?"

"Right behind you."

The secret agent yelped and jumped, losing her balance and falling face-first into the mud. As soon as she lifted herself above the surface, spitting sand and water everywhere and cursing in a manner that would make a drunk Nord sailor blush, the first sound that greeted her was the loud laughter of her temporary companion.

"You idiot! How did you even...?!"

"I'm an Argonian, remember? I was just waiting underwater and observing."

Azirra finally removed what mud was covering her eyes and glared at her partner in crime, only to stiffen and look away.

"You are naked. Why are you naked?"

"I put all my belonging into a waterproof bag—no need to get them wet. Besides, it's not like I'm really naked. It doesn't work like that for Argonians."

"Just...just put something on."

The Khajiit was completely sure the Morag Tong assassin was grinning.

"You know, I was actually planning to do the entire attack like that. Makes every male combatant much less focused."

"NO."

Her only response was a few more chuckles. After a few awkward seconds the Argonian nudged her in the side, now once more in full gear.

"Let's get going. And remember, try to be stealthy. Leave the sentinel to me, we can't afford to alert our enemies. The fewer we have to face at once, the better."

She nodded and followed her as Gih-Deesei lied down and started crawling across the shore, approaching the edge of the natural stone barrier that shielded them from the center of the island. The assassin slowly peeked out and grabbed a bamboo cane from her belt with one hand, while putting a green dart inside with the other. She lifted the weapon to her mouth and blew. Right after that she stood up and waved at Azirra to do the same.

Nestled between rocks at the center of the island was a wooden door leading into the hideout and in front of it lied a twitching Dunmer. Gih-Deesei dashed at him and with one slash of her dagger finished him off. The mage approached right as she was wiping the blood from her blade on the victim's vest.

"Some sort of paralysis enchantment?"

"A poison, actually. No need to enchant something that might be damaged with one use. Always carry something you can paralyze your enemy with, this way you can beat even a much stronger opponent."

 _I think I know what kind of spell I should learn next._

"So, what's the plan?" asked Azirra. "Unless you just want to rush inside and start hitting people."

"What do you think I am, a Dark Brotherhood recruit? No, we'll sneak in. I'll silently take down as many hostiles as possible. If we are discovered or if there are at least two thugs in the same place, we'll both attack. Do you know any poison spells?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Both distance and touch variants."

"Great, stick mostly to those. They won't affect me that much in case of friendly fire."

The inside of the cavern was underwhelming at best. After following the twisting tunnel they encountered a bridge over a short chasm. So far there were no enemies in sight. Gih-Deesei stepped on the first plank.

And then the entire plan went to Oblivion.

"Intruder on the bridge!" came a cry from the chasm—at the bottom stood a female Dunmer archer. She attempted to hit the vulnerable Argonian, but the assassin crossed the bridge in one second, just to face a Nord barbarian that was alerted by the shout.

Azirra glanced at her friend, locked in combat just outside of archer's range and at the gap between them. She wouldn't dare to close it with a ranger waiting just below to pepper someone with arrows.

 _Ugh, what was it that Amiulusus said I need to do when fighting archers? Oh, right. Get in their face._

She pulled out her sword and jumped into the chasm. Her landing wasn't graceful by any means, but her unexpected appearance surprised the Dunmer enough to allow the Khajiit to give her a serious cut on the wrist. The woman dropped the bow with a scream and fell over, clutching her wound.

An ice projectile that struck the wall above her head alerted her to the presence of more hostiles. She ducked behind a rock and assessed the situation.

There were two more Dunmer in a small cavern to the right, which judging by the presence of crates and barrels was one of the slavers' storerooms. One enemy was wearing long robes and trying to hide himself behind one of the obstacles to attack with spells from a safe position, while the other fighter, who was the only one with any sort of protection (in form of a chitin cuirass), charged at her with an enchanted dagger in hand.

In situations like those Azirra usually ended up doing something that no other sane person would do. Now it wasn't any different—she chucked her sword at the incoming combatant and, when he barely avoided the unexpected projectile, followed it up with a Greater Shockball, for a moment delaying him.

And that's when the other Dunmer managed to hit her in the chest with a spell.

Azirra gasped and collapsed. It wasn't exactly very painful, no, it was barely enough to make her fall. Most weaker frost spells only slow down the enemy and weaken their defenses, leaving them open to more damaging attacks, but it was exactly what the spellcaster was aiming for. The attack covered her cuirass in a thin layer of frost, which thankfully saved her from the brunt of the attack, leaving the mage only with a momentary problem with movement and breathing. In those short three seconds each intake of air felt like gulping down ice cubes, while her moves were sluggish at best.

A dagger stabbing right at her head proved to be excellent motivation to try harder—she rolled aside and grabbed the Dunmer by the wrist. He growled in pain and anger as her claws sunk into his hand, drawing blood.

A kick struck her stomach, making her squirm, but not let go of the weapon-holding hand. As far as she was concerned, the slaver would have better luck freeing himself if he cut off his own arm—she certainly wasn't going to just give him back full reign of the only object he had that could trump her claws in a direct fight.

The other mage, being the idiot he was, launched another spell, this time one of the fire type, that shot right between them, making them both recoil back. The Dunmer hissed as ther claws made scarlet lines in his skin.

"Stupid fetcher! Don't do that, I'm too close!"

Suddenly, Azirra realized something. As sturdy as the fighter was (he casually shrugged off her spell and immediately jumped back to attack, for Divines' sake!), he couldn't at the moment get away from her.

Mages are known for being a pain in the ass before you close the distance. And when you do...make sure you don't close it all the way. Enough wizards had perished because of this for others to came up with countermeasures.

She channeled her magicka and sent a Poisonous Touch spell right through the hand into the enemy, immediately following it with another...and another...and so on, until she exhausted her magicka pool and the enemy faltered, with disturbing, greenish liquid dripping from his mouth. Before he collapsed, however, a scaly arm found its way around his neck. A second later the Dunmer fell, with a stab wound on his back and Gih-Deesei standing over him with a smug smirk.

"Need a hand?"

"...I was doing just fine, he was already done for," mumbled Azirra, finally letting go of the wrist. A spell hitting the rock that up until now was shielding her from most magical attacks reminded both of them of one more enemy. Without thinking much she wrestled the dagger from the hand of the corpse and chucked it...only to see it fall short and slightly sideways from the mage, who was already laying in a pool of his own blood with the even-more-smug Argonian standing over him.

"Some advice for future reference: one, only some knives are for throwing, not daggers—they weren't designed for that. Two, you are doing it wrong—don't swing your arm as if you're holding a mace. Three, you suck, so don't suck."

"Wha...?! But, you were just right here before!"

"And now I'm here. That's what three rounds around Vivec each morning can do to you after three years."

"Around...but, it's not just land, but also sea!"

"Well, duh. I can breathe underwater, remember?"

"But there are slaughterfishes everywhere."

"Meaning I get to do some combat training, pest control, and obtain my breakfast at the same time."

At this point Azirra, too shocked to focus on what was truly important, pointed out one fatal flaw in the Argonian's training regime.

"Where do you think the water from Vivec's sewers ends up?"

Gih-Deesei first blinked in confusion and then her eyes bulged out as she connected the dots.

"By the Hist...ew, ew, ew!" The Argonian gagged. She glanced in terror at her still-wet armor and then at Azirra in resentment. "You civilized people are disgusting. Back in Black Marsh no one ever just shat into the water."

"We civilized people don't feel the need to swim in every body of water possible," said the secret agent, finally calming down. "How many enemies have you encountered? Were there any other corridors?"

"Nah, it was just a tunnel with two small chambers including this one. I'm pretty sure we took down all of them..." She smirked. "Well...I took down all of them."

"Har har. Funny, but wrong. The archer would have shot you in the ass if I hadn't struck him down first and gotten myself into this mess over here."

"Fine, if it makes you feel better...now help me search their pockets; one of them must have the key to the slave pen."

* * *

The subject of slavery in Morrowind is more complicated than it may seem. Is it legal? Of course it is, anyone can tell you that much. Anyone, even outlanders, can obtain a slave. What not everyone can tell you, however, is that the problem of transporting said slaves and the limits of ownership isn't solved the same way in all parts of the province.

Of all the Great Houses that own territory on Vvardenfell, the Telvanni are the most liberal when it comes to the usage of slaves. It is not surprising—this Great House is a bit of an anomaly, since its members actually never aimed to be a clan unified by a cause, but a large group of individuals that above anything else wants to protect their right to do anything they want to do, from both members of other Houses and each other. Telvanni live by the rule that their freedom officially ends only where the freedom of another Telvanni begins—everyone else is of no importance. Because of this, a high-ranking member of the House is almost independent, especially if he/she owns their own mushroom tower—those that actually can afford them are free to set rules in the area controlled by them and nothing except for the Common Principles, a set of simple rules that every member has to follow, has greater strength. As such, slaves are very common on the eastern coast of Vvardenfell, since most Telvanni lords are very traditional and thus not afraid to condemn thousands of 'lesser creatures' to work in their mines and plantations just so they can stay independent of the other Houses without working themselves. Of course, the liberty celebrated by this House also means that some areas have a different approach. Lord Gothren, the current Archmagister, had a massive slave market right beneath his tower of Tel Aruhn, while the ownership and transport of slaves in Vos and Tel Vos is firmly controlled by Lord Aryon, who in his reforms goes as far as to punish those that excessively torment them.

House Redoran doesn't use slaves as commonly as the other Great Houses. While they own a rather big chunk of northwestern Vvardenfell, they never focus that much on land ownership. To a Redoran, the greatest honor lies in combat prowess and battle achievements. As such, most of them focus entirely on becoming a skilled combatant, a knight in one of the orders, or at least a guard. When someone attacks some insignificant Ashlander group, wipes out a rogue member of any House, or conquers anything by brute force, you can safely assume it was performed by this faction of warriors (although as of late there were more and more instances of Ordinators doing so). Those few that for any reason cannot pursue this path usually have to take care of the field work—not that it pays off that much, the winds sadly carry the cursed ashes of Red Mountain mostly into their territory. In order to not take away the source of income of less-capable members, the usage of slaves has several restrictions, but is still well protected by the councilors, if only for the sake of tradition.

Of all three Great Houses operating in Vvardenfell, the Hlaalu reap the most benefits from slavery. Their plantations are legendary, surpassed in scale only by those owned by House Dres on the mainland. It is quite ironic when we consider this faction has the biggest number of outlanders, who in theory should be against slavery, but the reason behind it is both simple and sad —race becomes obsolete not because of some higher morals, but because all Hlaalu see money as the greatest value. If in order to get more of it they need to invite outlander scum into their House, they will do it. If they also need to enslave countless people, often captured by illegal means, they won't hesitate either. As such, there are no restrictions on the number of slaves one can own or any laws that protect them from abuse, but, in order to maintain some sort of standard, a very costly permit is required to work as a slave trader.

Of course, where there are restrictions, there are those who want to get rich by breaking them. While Vivec itself is owned by the Temple, most of the surrounding lands belong to House Hlaalu, not counting some of the towns and forts directly controlled by the Imperial administration. Because of the trading restriction there is an entire network of smugglers focused on transporting slaves for less fastidious buyers in the area. Vivec, as the biggest city on Vvardenfell, is a very tempting target for both the selling and acquiring of slaves (who cares if some Argonian or Khajiit disappears on a stroll in the middle of the night? Certainly not the Ordinators, that's for sure). Sadly, its proximity to Hlaalu territory and the Imperial seat of power in Ebonheart makes it a very hazardous occupation - legionnaires and Hlaalu guards gladly shoot down any unsanctioned slaver den not protected by law or bribes, along with those responsible for them.

Tonight, the incredibly efficient and fearsome fighters of the Twin Lamps, numbering one shy Khajiit mage-in-training and one not-shy-enough Argonian assassin, added their own contribution to make this job even more dangerous. The results of their hard work were six dead slavers and four free Argonians: J'Ram-Dar, Cheesh-Meeus, Heir-Zish and Tasha. After giving them directions to the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart, to which they could easily and quickly get by swimming, the slaves didn't even waste time to take anything and immediately left the cave, willing to put this part of their life behind them. Both abolitionists remained for a bit longer to find and take anything of value, which wasn't much—except for the personal belongings of the slavers, locations serving this purpose tended to be free of greater amounts of loot. What they found was divided between them, with an occasional discussion when it came to more valuable objects. By four in the morning both adventurers had finished ransacking the hideout and hiding the bodies (just in case other slavers investigated the place—it wouldn't do to alert others that someone was targeting them) and had sat down on one of the boulders on the edge of the island. Gih-Deesei originally planned to swim back to the city once she was done, however she decided to stay with Azirra for the gondolier that would take them back at dawn. The Khajiit's remarks on the quality of the water from earlier obviously refused to depart from the assassin's memory.

"So, where will you be staying tonight, or rather, in the morning?" asked Gih-Deesei. "I know all Twin Lamps members that live in Vivec, so you can't be from around here."

"I guess I will stay at the inn in Ebonheart, like the last time I was in Vivec. At this hour the guild halls are closed and it will be several hours before they open. I would rather get some rest in before returning to Balmora."

"So, you operate in the seat of power of both House Hlaalu and the Cammona Tong? Damn. You sure have guts to work right under their noses."

Azirra shrugged.

"Not really. That would be my second task for the Twin Lamps. I'm not really actively working for them, I'm just someone that may help from time to time if I can do so. Im-Kilaya gave me the password after I brought him a Khajiit used for drug smuggling."

"Drug smuggling? You mean...?"

"Forced to swallow packs of moon sugar and then meant to be cut open by the buyer, yes."

Whatever Gih-Deesei blurted out in the language of Argonians, it obviously wasn't nice.

"Those bastards are the worst right after Telvanni wizards. Once a slave becomes their property, they have a few days left to live at most." The assassin took a pebble and tossed it, making it sink as soon as it touched the water. "I will never understand how Huleeya can make the stone bounce a few times, it doesn't make sense...anyway, it's a bit of a shame you only do that much. The Twin Lamps are in dire need of new agents... though I can hardly blame you for not being more active. You fight like my granny."

"Hey! I will have you know I have taken down quite a lot of enemies since I arrived to Morrowind!"

"Maybe, but how often have you relied on luck rather than skill? I saw how you fight. Sure, your aim isn't bad and it's nothing out of the ordinary that as a mage you are rather squishy when someone gets close to you, but all it would take are two melee fighters at close distance or even just one fairly good one, and you're finished. You need some serious training if you want to survive out there."

Azirra sighed.

"You think I don't know? All I can do is cast a few spells and maybe stab someone with a spear. I still can't believe I survived that one raid on a big smuggler den a few days ago."

"Look, if all of that is too hard for you, then why won't you find a partner for your adventures? Sure, you would have to share the loot, but that's better than dying in some forgotten hole."

The mage only smiled weakly. For some reason she found it easy to speak to Gih-Deesei about this subject, despite the secrecy involved. For too long she was burdened by her knowledge, with no one to talk to. Caius was the one giving the orders, so he was out. Ajira was a trusted friend, but she didn't want her to worry. And Rotheimaak was...well, Rotheimaak. Let's leave it at that.

"Most of the time it's not an option. I have a...duty, one that I must do alone, since I can't really trust any others with it. So far there's only one...person...that knows, and while he says he's on my side, the only support I get are some mysterious, vague hints. So no, I don't think that's an option. Looks like I just have to start tossing money at professionals so that they will teach me."

 _It's a good thing that money is the one thing that I don't lack these days._

"Sorry to hear that. I wish I could point you towards some good trainers, but those I know are members of the Morag Tong, so they won't train outsiders."

"Alright, let's stop pitying me, I'm sure there are better subjects one can speak about with an assassin after four in the morning. You said something about the condition of the Twin Lamps?"

"Yes, the Twin Lamps have a rather serious problem. You see, our presence in Ebonheart and Vivec is secured thanks to the Argonian Mission, Jobasha, Ilmeni Dren and me, but that's pretty much it—we don't have a solid foothold in other locations. I mean, sure, we have someone far up north in Ald Velothi as well as an agent near Suran, but that's it. No one in Ald'ruhn or Balmora and not a single trusted person on the entire east coast, where slavery is at its strongest. It's so hard to find someone that can be trusted with the sort of work we do. We can't just look for someone that speaks about how bad slavery is, we need people that can actually do something, but are subtle enough to stay in the shadows... thus making it hard for us to find them. And not everyone who wants to help is in position to do so."

"True. Even if I wasn't busy with my other tasks, I don't own a place of my own, so I can hardly aid any escaped slaves." Azirra glanced towards the sky. It was slightly lighter, but it was far from dawn, so they still had a lot of time to burn. "Say, what is the most dangerous thing you've ever done? Just curious."

"The most dangerous...? Oh, sorry, can't tell you that, it concerns the Morag Tong. I can, however, tell you about the second most dangerous thing, since it's about my other job and I'm sure Im-Kilaya wouldn't mind. It involves Lord Dren of House Hlaalu, a Khajiit slave, a yo-yo and a pineapple..."

The talk continued until dawn, when the grumpy gondolier finally arrived to take them back to Vivec. Now, after over twenty hours of hard work, Azirra's plans could be summarised in one sentence: find an inn and sleep for just as long.

* * *

Manirai and Ted's meeting with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa took place on the shore, which was distant enough from the camp for others to not overhear them. While the Ash Khan didn't think there was any need for secrecy, he complied with Ted's request.

Speaking of Sul-Matuul...if Ted had to guess, he would say he is the 'old sensei' type of warrior, one of those you only see in movies. He had everything to match that description except for a long beard: wrinkles, a rough manner of speaking, wisdom and hidden strength way above what his age would suggest. On his body were proudly-shining enchanted artifacts of the Urshilaku tribe, passed on from one Khan to another for thousands of years. His pride as a warrior made him appear very unfriendly to those who didn't know him. Ted wasn't fooled though—he played Morrowind enough times to fully appreciate each important character and now it paid off in his ability to figure out what makes them tick. For Sul-Matuul it was respect—as long as he shows him courtesy and takes a humble approach, the Khan should aid him.

Nibani Maesa was a bit tougher to crack, but not really that hard. She was perhaps a decade or two younger than Manirai, but her hair was still gray. Unlike the chief, she had no magical items and Ted vaguely remembered that her list of spells focused mostly on Restoration, making her rather weak in a fight, even though she had a high level. She didn't have to fight, though—if the leader of the Nerevarine cult was ever in danger, the warriors of Urshilaku would splatter the cause all over the desert. In order to gain her aid for future challanges, he simply needed to convince her Azirra was indeed Nerevar reborn. In the game, this Wise Woman appeared to be free of prejudice against outlanders, willingly guiding the Nerevarine no matter the race.

Even if he didn't get involved, chances are Azirra would still complete her mission. That much he knew. He acted because others wouldn't be so fortunate—people always died around heroes, either because of them or because the hero couldn't save them. Sooner or later, after his umpteenth playthrough of Morrowind, Oblivion, or Skyrim, he always gave himself an additional challenge—save every possible NPC. Needless to say, such gameplay was much, much more difficult. Here, it wasn't just about giving himself a secondary objective. The death of an NPC wouldn't just be limited to breaking some quest, possibly losing another trader you can sell your junk off to or a short, unoriginal sentence looking roughly like 'My friend/wife/father/daughter/hamster died. Things won't be the same without him/her'. No. Here, if someone were to die, some child might no longer be able to sit on his grandfather's knee and listen to stories from his adventuring days. A man might suddenly find himself visiting the cemetery instead of his wife. It was rough, it was real. Rotheimaak understood all of that as soon as he managed to get rid of that poor bandit that found his way into his stomach during the events at Arkngthand.

It didn't turn him into a grim dragon unable to appreciate the world he found himself in, but it made him (mostly) serious in moments like this one. Now it wasn't a game, not anymore. Now, when lives were at stake, it was a duty.

The Erabenimsun Wise Woman was the first one to speak. She told her hosts about the recent events at her tribe's camp—of the sudden arrival of Rotheimaak, his forced removal of their war-loving chief and his allies, and finally of the promise he gave to them.

As soon as she was finished, he decided to earn a few points with the Urshilaku leaders.

"Khan Sul-Matuul, Wise Woman Nibani Maesa. First, before I get to the most important part, I wish to thank you for your willingness to not only meet us, but to also do so the way I wished. I realize that you might question it, but I believe it is for the best if the two of you learn what I have discovered about the Nerevarine first, so that you can find the best way to inform your fellow tribesmen."

"I see. Meaning that it's something they wouldn't take well..." the Wise Woman of Urshilaku correctly guessed. "But whatever you have to say about this person is only second to the confirmation that they are the Nerevarine. How are you so certain?"

"There are several reasons. First of all, much like Ashl...the Velothi, I know that prophetic dreams aren't just a myth." _Whoa, I almost stepped into a pit full of shit. The locals are really sensitive when you compare the color of their skin to ash...no surprise there._ "Dragons are always capable of viewing _Tiid_ , time, from a...different perspective than mortals, and we can foresee many events. I pride myself in being one of those that can see even further than most, _qolaas_. I know of the prophecy of the Nerevarine...and I don't just mean THE STRANGER, but also those prophecies that were either hidden or forgotten. The Seven Visions, the Seven Curses, even The Lost Prophecy..." The only reason Ted noticed the subtle change of expressions among his listeners was because he was expecting it. "The one I have found doesn't fit all requirements that the prophecies list...yet. They are a challenge, a series of _untte_ , trials, that only Nerevar reborn can survive. Time will show that I am right. For now, not even she herself knows. But not for long."

"You said that your candidate doesn't fit all criteria yet. If that is the case, how are you so sure she is the one?" asked Sul-Matuul.

"I understand your doubts, but know that I have none, not anymore. The first time I met her I thought I was wrong, that this cannot be the one this land was waiting for." Ted decided to leave it at that. He wanted the others to give Azirra some slack, to not doubt her even more because of her less-than-inspiring performance after the 'Flying Bosmer Episode'. "I am not certain how much you know of my kind, so I feel it necessary to inform you that I am, just like all other _dovahhe_ , a son to Akatosh, Dragon of Time. I do not mean some mystic talk about being a distant descendant of a god or even a symbolic one, no, it's quite literal. Dragons are half-immortal pieces of his being that he left behind in the creation of _fin lein_ , the world. We do not age, we do not multiply, we do not even completely die when one of our souls is absorbed by another _dovah_." He glanced at both leaders, who didn't seem shaken by this revelation. "If I were to walk up to a priest of the Nine Divines and tell him what I told you, he would call me a heretic...assuming he would still be conscious after seeing me, that is." This did raise a chuckle out of the Khan. "I do know, however, that it is of no difference to you since it's not your religion and while you know of The Nine, you don't consider them gods deserving of worship. The point is, as a son of the God of Time, I can feel a certain...pressure when an extraordinary mortal comes close to me. The pressure of their destiny. We _dovahhe_ call this pressure _Qalos_. An emperor creates more than a soldier, who in turn creates more than a farmer...but heroes, ho, those best all others. And that mortal I met? I've never met anyone with so much potential for world-changing events."

Nibani Maesa slowly nodded.

"I understand. Now, is there anything more you wish to say to convince us, or would you rather rely on telling us something that you might have just fabricated? If you know the other prophecies, why don't you just say them so that I can check how valid they are?"

 _Damn. She's good._

"I can't do that for one simple reason—in order for the Nerevarine to fulfill her destiny, she must discover the lost prophecies on her own. It is part of the task. I can, however, confirm that I am indeed a seer by telling you of the Seven Trials...which I know weren't lost, but just hidden and guarded by you and your predecessors."

 _Ha! Take that_ , thought Ted as the Wise Woman flinched. Ted began calmly:

"Seven trials. What he puts his hand to, that shall be done. What is left undone, that shall be done. First trial: On a certain day to uncertain parents incarnate moon and star reborn. Second trial: Neither blight nor age can harm him. The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies. Third trial: In caverns dark Azura's eye sees and makes shine the moon and star." _Oh please, please don't say I'm remembering it wrong..._ "Fourth trial: A stranger's voice unites the Houses. Three Halls call him Hortator. Fifth Trial: A stranger's hand unites the Velothi. Four Tribes call him Nerevarine." He stopped and smiled. "Do I need to go on?"

 _God, please, don't let her ask for more, that's all I remember in detail..._

"No, it's fine. I can see you aren't lying; you do know the prophecies."

 _Ask and you shall receive._

"Now that I have proven that I indeed know what I'm talking about, I guess it is time that I tell you the reason behind my involvement. You see, I am certain that the Nerevarine, sooner or later, will come to your tribe seeking _aak_ , guidance. The problem is that if we are not careful enough she might not be able to do it."

"Why would that be?" questioned Sul-Matuul. "What could possibly be stronger than a prophecy-driven hero?"

"Prejudice."

Ted said nothing more, giving the others a chance to figure this out on their own. Manirai, on the other hand, had no desire to prolong his games.

"She's a Khajiit."

The other two seemed crushed by this news...just not in the way the Erabenimsun Wise Woman expected.

"A Khajiit? No...how can the Nerevarine become Hortator of three Houses if their members won't even see her as an equal?" Nibani Maesa muttered.

"That is troubling news indeed. Even other tribes would have their doubts about naming an outlander Nerevarine. The task, incredibly difficult all on its own, has now gotten ten times worse."

"Do not despair just yet," reassured Ted. "My name isn't Word-Forging-Guide for nothing. I know what to say to save her a lot of trouble in that trial...but that is a worry for future me. For now, I only need you to break the news in the gentlest way possible, so that there will be no problems on your end."

The Ash Khan only glanced at him with doubt.

"You do realize that your words won't be enough to make us sure she's the one?"

"No one would be able to call you a responsible _kinbok_ if you believed a story told by a total stranger without any proof, even if said stranger was a mythical beast with prophetic powers." Rotheimaak shrugged as best as a dragon could. "Give her a test in which she could prove she has the skills. Nothing too time consuming—I do what I can to make sure she fulfills her destiny as soon as possible, so that less _jorre_ will suffer from Dagoth's madness and the Tribunal's misguided attempts to help." He smirked at the Khan. "I believe you already might have something in mind. Yes, the retrieval of that bow might be indeed a good choice."

Now that finally made Sul-Matuul imitate a fish, with how he kept on opening and closing his mouth, with no sound coming from it—clearly his timing was so perfect he pretty much said aloud what the Dunmer was thinking at the moment. Ted counted surprising him like that as his so-far greatest achievement. He chuckled, which finally made the chief put his surprise aside.

"And you say you want to make it easy for her?" asked Sul-Matuul without emotion before showing his own amusement the same way. "Truly, the only more difficult task I could give her in close proximity to the camp would be sending her to one of the daedric shrines." His look turned a bit more serious as he added: "You are rather big, but the burial caverns of our tribe are rather spacious, so in theory you could get in there. Of course, you won't accompany her?"

"On your trial? Perish the thought, that would defeat the purpose of this task. I will stay in the camp for the entirety of her mission. After that, though? Once she proves herself to the tribe, I'll be able to finally offer her my full support." At their questioning glances, he gave further explanation. "I already know she is a _hun_ , Heroine, but she doesn't. If I were to offer help now, she would be very suspicious of me, which would hinder her in ending _untte_ as soon as possible. If I did that after she knew what's going on, but before the trials, she would keep thinking she doesn't deserve my help nor that I am sane for putting so much trust in her. After your task though I can claim that any doubt I had was proven unjustified by her newest feat of power, so that she will no longer doubt my sincerity. The fact her spirits will be high after such victory will help as well."

Nibani Maesa smiled.

"And then the two of you will be reunited as brothers in arms...or rather now a brother and sister in arms."

Ted blinked. He waited for a moment for some sort of realization or maybe a follow-up, but that was all. Finally he decided to simply ask.

"What do you mean by that?"

She looked at him in confusion.

"What is it that perplexed you? I believe my words were simple enough. Nerevar was a male, his reincarnation is a female. What is hard to understand about that?"

"That's not what seems strange to me." Ted narrowed his eyes in focus while also lowering his head so that it's on the level of the Dunmer. "What do you mean by 'reunited'?"

Sul-Matuul also was surprised by his reaction.

"You mean you don't remember?"

"Remember what?" growled Ted, annoyed at how slow they were to explain this to him.

"He doesn't...!" gasped Nibani Maesa. "He really doesn't remember!"

He looked at Manirai, hoping to get some answers from the other Wise Woman, but she seemed as confused as him.

"Rotheimaak," started Sul-Matuul, for the first time using his name. "Do you really not remember the Battle of Red Mountain?"

Ted frowned.

"Why would I remember that at all?" he asked and then followed with the excuse that worked just fine so far. "When the last of the dragons were being hunted down by the _Bronne_ back in the Merethic Era, I burrowed myself at _Sahqo Strunmah_ and slept there for millennia. I wasn't even active during the war with the Dwemer in the First Era, even if I was technically very close to the battlefield. Why should I remember the final battle?"

"But...our stories and legends speak of you. They speak of Nerevar Indoril, a leader of both the Tribes and the Houses, and of Rotheimaak the Thunder-Lizard, who assisted him in the final battle and even tried to save him from Tribunal's betrayal. You are the final sign, the one whose return were to mark the time of the Nerevarine by your own words, repeated from one Wise Woman of Urshilaku to another to this very day. 'Fear not, followers of Veloth! My part in this era is done, but I'll be back...and with me Nerevar reborn!'."

Ted's jaw joined his wings on the ground.

"You mean you really don't remember?"

* * *

 **Guys, guys. Listen. You know, I suddenly had this great idea just how to insert Ted into the very main quest without making it look suspicious to other people connected to the Nerevarine and the prophecy. When I came up with it I actually had to sit down, that's how shocked I was at my own sudden genius. I will use the one thing that, based on lore, we know should exist for each Hero, but doesn't actually show up in TES III... It's gonna be awesome, but it will take many chapters to fully explain, leaving you slightly confused until it happens.**

 **I believe this is the last chapter before Ald'ruhn part of the story. Yep, that's right - Azirra at last changes her surroundings. Until then. Merry Christmas everyone!**


	18. It's a beautiful day outside

**It was long overdue. Four months. Four fucking months. Yeah, sure, I'm writing my bachelor thesis, but seriously... Guys, let's make something clear. If I won't update before the end of the summer, I will feel disappointed if I won't see any Dark Brotherhood assassins on my doorstep.**

 ** _Ribbitfroggy_ \- Well, it took almost two months since your comment... even though I was almost finished with this chapter at the time.**

 ** _Mmcc_ \- Heh, where do you think I took that line from? I am a great fan of Warband, I'm on my second playthrough even despite how long it takes to actually conquer entire Calradia and how repetitive the battles become after a while. I have great hopes for Bannerlord.**

 ** _ChaoticChocoCake_ \- I certainly do feel pride whenever I see reviews such as yours. : )**

 ** _Coldman9_ \- For now Ted remains separated from the Nerevarine, but it won't be that way for long. He simply doesn't have any way to insert himself into the main quest too early - there would be too many uncomfortable questions he doesn't want or even can't answer. So for now he settles for the next best thing, helping Azirra from behind the courtain. Furthermore, he would rather avoid bringing too much attention to himself - there are forces in Elder Scrolls universe he knows he would never be able to beat. As such he will never let anyone know the exact limits of his knowledge to keep other players guessing about him with the only exception of game protagonists. As for ALMSIVI, I wouldn't worry all that much about Vivec - he was more than happy to let Nerevarine come to him at their own pace, he strikes me as a person that reacts rather than acts first. Hell, he even is willing to give up godhood just to protect the Morrowind from Dagoth Ur. It's Almalexia that is the biggest danger of the Tribunal - unlike the other two she is desperately trying to expand her dimishing power and Ted being close to the Nerevarine will only make her more suspicious.**

 ** _Lunar Loon_ \- Gotta keep him on his toes, eh? xD**

 ** _FluffyDwagy_ \- Ohh boyyy, that is a lot of reviews... Alright, from top to bottom. Rotheimaak hardly needs an armor, as the best armors are made from members of his own species to begin with, so it definitely wouldn't be for that purpose. Yes, that mark on his head is there for a reason, although it's not really all that important in a grand scheme of things. Rotheimaak will probably do his best to not add humans to his diet, dragon instinct or not he still has mostly human mindset. Do not worry about our protagonist becoming human once more - at one point in the future he will find a way to enter human settlements without making everyone run in fear, but he will never be able to physically change form to one of the human races of Tamriel. Let's just say that Jerry the drunk bastard isn't nearly as far away away as Ted hopes. Yes, the story of Rotheimaak will eventually extend to first Oblivion and then Skyrim, if I will manage to keep this up. Although at the speed I'm going recently there might already be TES VI before I'm done with Skyrim. Oh well, at least then you will get even more content. : )**

 ** _InsidiousAgent_ \- Oh yes, Ted will certainly suffer from the fact that there is a total number of zero women capable of handling his needs in that area. xD For faction quests I actually have more protagonists ready, some even already appeared (remember Sudione from House Hlaalu). Redoran protagonist is off-handedly mentioned in this chapter, the same with Divine Cult member a few chapters ago, the ginger Dunmer from Vivec is the Temple protagonist, the Argonian lady is Morag Thong assassin... With the exception of the Imperial Legion the only one missing is Telvanni protagonist. And for a good reason.**

 ** _KialDeyung_ \- Years. I'm sorry, but it will certainly take years to get to Skyrim, there's just too much content and I intend to use it as much of it as possible. So yes, the DLCs will happen and they will take form of two sequels after the story of the main game is over, meaning a trilogy for each game (althouh DLC fics, due to having much less content, won't be really all that long).**

 ** _Ashquinox_ \- If there are pens in Morrowind, I have no idea. There might be, since at least some people must have a printing press in Oblivion (Black Horse Courier, anyone?). As for the explanation... well, while it says what and when, it doesn't say how, so it hardly counts.**

 ** _Hitler's Mustache_ \- As said in replies above, it will happen assuming I'll stay determined. I already have a wonderful ideas for plot twists in Skyrim, so it would be a shame not to use them.**

 ** _Pietersielie_ \- I would hardly have any devoted readers without cliffhangers, now would I? xD**

 **With that said, read and have fun, although there isn't much happening in terms of action this time. Also, I STILL didn't find anyone willing to be my Beta Reader, so once again you must bare with my mistakes. I swear, there must be some curse on me that prevents me from finding a good proofreader willing to stick with me for long.**

* * *

Ted was very shocked by the staggering and completely unforeseen mountain of information that was presented to him by Nibani Maesa. The tribal memory of Urshilaku was one of a kind - as the heart of the Nerevarine cult they still remembered the truths that even Wise Women of other tribes no longer knew. According to her, Rotheimaak was the name of the dragon who unexpectedly appeared out of nowhere near the end of the war against the dwarves. If words of Alandro Sul, one of the closest companions of Nerevarine (and ancestor of Sul-Matuul) were to be trusted, the dragon appeared in a flash of light over the bridge leading to the west entrance to Red Mountain region, right in the middle of an ambush performed by Dwemer forces. While the attack wasn't devastating enough to completely destroy the group, the appearance of a new ally definitely saved quite a lot of tribals - the dragon struck the enemy with a deadly and unknown magic that took the form of a thundering voice, which earned him the nickname that survived the test of time even in other tribes, when the events behind its creation were long forgotten.

It didn't take much time before Rotheimaak (which was indeed how the dragon introduced himself, to Ted's surprise) become a trusted ally of both Ashlanders and Nerevar himself. During the final assault at the citadels of Red Mountain, when almost entirety of dwarven forces was stretched across entire border in the defense against a massive attack from all possible sides, said dragon flew directly into the main fortress of the Dwemer king, a feat accomplished thanks to the head of House Dagoth, who joined the battle on the side of the dwarves so he could betray them in the right moment to make them vulnerable to the attack of his friend from House Indoril. With back entrance left mostly unguarded from aerial attack (and by back entrance they meant the very crater of Red Mountain, leading directly into the chamber in which the enemy was building the Numidium, artificial god, the very object that started the war), Rotheimaak and Nerevar sitting on his back were able to force the Dwemer king into a direct confrontation. It was then, by ways still not understood by anyone, that the entire Dwemer race disappeared without a trace.

"Dragon Break," cut Ted.

"What?" asked Nibani Maesa.

"Oh, sorry for interrupting. That's probably when the Dragon Break occurred, an event that twists the very structure of time... It tends to happen when someone pushes divinity to its limits and I believe that's exactly what the dwarves did on Red Mountain. Most people aren't aware of this particular event, since unlike with the known Breaks there are no chronicles surviving from that era, which would help recognize the Break due to the conflicting records. Mind you, it's just my theory, a GAME THEORY, nothing confirmed. Please, continue."

"Not much else to tell. With Dwemer gone, Nerevar left the man that was going to become Dagoth Ur to guard the Numidium, while he and you left to summon his generals. When you returned with Almalexia, Sotha Sil and Vivec to the fortress, Nerevar was betrayed not once, but twice - first by Dagoth, who in his madness attacked everyone else, and then by Tribunal, who wanted to obtain the powers of a god. You were the one who took severely wounded Nerevar and escaped the Red Mountain to bring your friend to the safety of Alandro Sul's camp. In the end it meant nothing, for Nerevar perished from his wounds inflicted by Tribunal. That's also when you disappeared, also in a flash of light, and promised to return when the reborn Nerevar will walk the lands again."

"I see..." said slowly Ted, even though he couldn't actually make sense of it. The description of the 'original' Rotheimaak was disturbingly matching his own - Nibani Maesa even mentioned that purple splotch on top of his head, which definitely wasn't common amongst dragons.

 _Could it be that Sheogorath did something to an already existing dragon? It would certainly explain how was he able to put me here despite the daedra not being able to create life... That would mean there already WAS a dragon named Rotheimaak... and now I'm somehow stuck in his body. But then why would Akatosh treat me as if I was a new dragon, why wouldn't he recognize me? He would surely remember one of the few dragons that survived the Dragon War..._

"So Urshilaku were the ones who had the body of Nerevar. What happened to it?"

"Nerevar's ashes were taken by Alandro Sul and put to final rest in a shrine of Azura just east of Sadrith Mora. It is also where his spear and your artifact was hidden and your statue created, so that the future generations would remember your part in the events."

"...What artifact?"

"That, sadly, I do not know. For some reason the Wise Woman of that time decided to not tell her student. I know only that it was something you brought with yourself and that it was locked away so that only with the help of Nerevarine you could reclaim it."

 _Interesting... Looks like there's a completely new quest in my imaginary journal!_

"How peculiar. I will have to investigate it... Although it is nice to know that the one that I will accompany on future adventures is someone that I supposedly already know and should be able to get along with. For now, though, I can only wait."

"How long it will be before we should expect Nerevarine?" asked Sul-Matuul.

"No idea. In this case I know only where and who, not when. She might be here today or she might do the smart thing and get a bit stronger first. It's all up to her." Rotheimaak glanced towards the islands marking the beginning of Sheogorad region (guess who it was named after?). Somewhere out there lived a certain troll in a dire need of serious revenge pranking... "I won't be very bored however, there's plenty things to do around here. Meditation, hunting, flying, scaring a certain asshole senseless..."

 _The time I wasted because the bastard kept telling about dragons in Morrowind... I will show him a dragon in Morrowind!_

* * *

'Progress of Truth' wasn't a big book, just thick enough to read all of it during her boat ride from Ebonheart to Vivec. Despite its subject being a religious dispute, something that Azirra never really cared much about since gods were less than favourable to her in the past, it was quite interesting due to how forbidden by the Temple the content was. It was no mystery why it was the case - just the part about the Dissident Priests suspecting Tribunal's power might come from the same source as the one Dagoth Ur wielded would be enough for the clergy to send Ordinators after the author. And boy, that rebellious faction sure had a lot to talk about. Most of it were things that everyone knew but few were courageous enough to tell, like the fact that the warriors of the Temple were out of control, not even truly listening to the Archcanon, or that the great deal of priesthood was corrupted. It also seemed they actually were paying attention to Nerevarine prophecies and Azirra was quite certain that they knew even more than they proclaimed in the 'Progress'.

 _I'm pretty sure Caius will ask me to question them directly sooner or later_ , thought Azirra as she left the Balmora Guild Hall to which she arrived through teleportation from Vivec. _Probably not right away, but he will. They seem to be one of the two major information sources I haven't checked yet, the other being the Nerevarine cult itself... I think I know where I'll be going next._

Azirra wasn't in any rush to report her findings to the Spymaster and neither he wanted to meet with her right away - she shouldn't too often visit his house to avoid bringing attention to either of them. For today she intended to get another lesson from Amiulusus and hopefully came up with some sort of long term training, since the one she received for aiding Argonian Blade agent covered only basics. After that she planned to return to the Mages Guild and ask Ajira who she would suggest as a trainer for a battlemage. For the rest of the day though Azirra intended to do absolutely nothing requiring leaving the hall or maybe even her bed. She had her fill of adventures for this week.

* * *

Meeting M'aiq was considered by many to be an important part of any tourist trip to Sheogorad region, a group of islands on the north coast of Vvardenfell. Haema Farseer, a shipmaster that regularly travelled between Khuul, Sadrith Mora, Tel Aruhn and Tel Mora, was one of the few locals that actually found him interesting to talk to. In opinion of most Nords inhabiting the town of Dagon Fel M'aiq, known to everyone as M'aiq the Liar, was just a Sheogorath-touched fool that for some strange reason become some sort of local celebrity just because his lies were so incredibly absurd. The shipmaster, on the other hand, suspected M'aiq was very much sane, but he just liked attention. To earn it, he was ready to speak of most hilarious things there are, so she made a point to exchange a few words every time she passed the little island he was spending his days on (and by that she meant he was sitting there on a lone chair, dressed in expensive clothes and wearing that ridiculous fur helmet that made everyone unable to take him seriously).

"Hello, M'aiq! Will you share some wisdom with me?"

"Of course! What do you wish to know?"

She picked the first thing that she thought of.

"Mudcrabs, you say? Ah, this one have seen a lot of them. But some are more interesting than others. Emperor Crabs are down there, in the ocean. You will see them too if you will swim far enough. As for Mudcrab Merchants, M'aiq only heard of them. They've got all the money. Mudcrabs taking over everything. They already run Pelagiad."

"Are there any other mystical creatures you met recently?"

"There are. I've met a wereshark, but he was afraid of the water... Naked liches too. If you will see them, let M'aiq know. M'aiq wants to make sure to look in the other direction this time. And dragons, of course. They are everywhere! You must fly very high to see most of them, though. The ones near the ground are very hard to see, being invisible."

One moment M'aiq sat there in his chair, spouting the nonsense the way only he could... and the next the chair fell over empty, with no sign of the owner. Haema wasn't sure what happened - she blinked at the wrong time.

"What in the world...?"

Just as she started to convince herself the Khajiit was playing some sort of prank on her, a deep voice sounded from the sky.

"GEEEET DUUUUUNKED OOOOOOON!"

M'aiq fell into the water right next to the ship and did his best to stay on the surface until Haema would help him get on the boat. He would wait for a bit - she was busy gawking at a massive object that was majestically flying away while cacking madly.

The Khajiit, who finally managed to climb onto the deck on his own, lied down, too tired to even stand up.

"Hem, hem... dragons. As M'aiq said, tales for little kittens," stated the liar, still not even lifting his head. "There are no such things as dragons and certainly not in Morrowind. And M'aiq decided to take a swim out of his own free will. Yes. M'aiq likes swimming very much."

* * *

It was the night before twenty fifth of Last Seed, her tenth day in the land of Morrowind, when Azirra had another disturbing dream.

 _He was there again, Sharmat with the face of gold. The one who speaks with silence, who denied the powers of CHIM. And she was here as well, but, much like the last time, she felt something was horribly wrong, although she couldn't tell what._

 _The figure with golden mask leaned over something, staring at some blurry object on the table, which suddenly appeared here... or perhaps it was always there? They were surrounded by a circle of candles._

 _He spoke._

 _"There are many rooms in the house of the Master. Be easy, for from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you." The man... no, the god. The god turned around and walked away to disappear in the darkness._

 _She looked at the table. There, as clear and sharp as her reflection from a mirror, lied her own body. She was resting with her hands placed on her chest and with no breath in it. With hesitation she walked up and reached with her hand. Fingers of the living and the palm of the dead met._

 _The cold body drew breath and opened its dark, empty eyes. The corpse rose and its claws shoot towards her neck._

She gasped, suddenly finding herself awake back on her bunk in Mages Guild. The Dunmer wizard, the only male member of Balmora chapter, glanced at her over his alchemy apparatus.

"Bad dreams?" asked Marayn Dren. Judging by the ingredients on his lap, he was trying to brew an antidote to one of the most common poisons. "I advise against speaking with religious locals about it. They seem to think it's a sign of being possessed."

The Khajiit observed with worry as the fluid in the vial he was heating over a burner started to turn orange instead of brown.

"Dully noted. And... I advise against drinking that concoction. Or touching it. Or smelling. Maybe even moving it too fast."

"Very funny. I might not be a master alchemist, but I can..." The potion started bubbling. "Oh dear."

That was the only thing he managed to say before a cloud of tears-inducing gas started to spread all over the room.

"NOOOOOO!" came a scream of Ajira, who happened to be the member with the best sense of smell and thus sensed this spectacular failure despite being in another chamber. "Now Ajira won't be able to sleep here for days! Marayn, you will pay for this one's stay at the inn!"

"...Sorry," mumbled the Dunmer, not looking at Azirra, who was glaring at him through tears.

"Next time leave alchemy to someone who won't poison us all in our beds."

"All I wanted was to learn something new, that's all! I certainly didn't shout at you when you asked for Destruction training."

"One, I paid you with gold. Plenty of it. Two, you not only practiced in the worst possible place, but also failed to ask Ajira for help, even though she's the alchemist of this hall."

"As if this one would train that fool! The last time Ajira tried to teach him how to make healing potion, he melted her alembic!" came the comment from another room.

"...What she said."

"Ugh, whatever."

 _At least there's some good to this event_ , thought Azirra as she started to search the chest next to her bed for her set of traveling clothes and chasing Marayn out of the sleeping area. _No one will notice I wet my bed... again. Stupid nightmares._

Once most of her morning rituals were complete, Azirra left first the hall and then the city. She did so however not through the south gate, like almost anyone who visited Balmora, but the north one. That particular path didn't really led anywhere important, but it run next to the river that supplied the settlement. As soon as she walked away for a suitable distance, she took off her robe and jumped into the water - that seemed to be the only fast way to get rid of the stink that now followed her thanks to the idiot. There was no way she was going to spend who knows how much septims in the bath house if it was this warm outside. One could even run around in birthday suit and not get cold at all.

A sudden splash put Azirra on alert. At first she was afraid it was a slaughterfish, but no - those little devils lived only in a salty water. Then the source of the racket re-emerged and made her wish it was the greatest scourge of the tourist industry.

 _Gods damn it! I didn't mean literally that part about running around naked!_ Azirra watched with dread as some Nord, clad even more scarcely than her (as in, just in his long beard) leaned on the riverside, relaxing in the water.

 _Where the Oblivion this guy even came from?_ As far as the first thoughts after a shock go, this one wasn't so bad. Azirra glanced upwards and decided that Nord must have jumped head first from the small cliff above. _What is it with people jumping off the cliffs to startle me?_

"Mornin'," greeted her the intruder, not even bothering to look in her direction.

Azirra without the word walked out of the river, put on her still slightly stinking robe (she planned to buy a new set of travel clothes anyway) and marched back to the city, doing her best to forget this episode in the long chain of disasters she had to face.

* * *

"If Mehra Milo says I must have a copy of 'Progress of Truth,' then I must have one. I assume you won't mind if I borrow it until you finish the next task," said Caius while reading the reports Azirra gave him.

"No problem, I already finished it," informed him the mage.

"Good to know you already have the habit of acquiring information even despite not knowing how it fits in the grand scheme of things. It will serve you well." The Spymaster put the last note on the table and started writing down the most important findings for his own use. "I'll need some time to digest all of this and decide on our next action. You're doing a good work, so I'm promoting you to the Journeyman. With this rank other Blades will offer the training at prices lower than you would find in any guild, so do take advantage of this."

At this Azirra slapped herself in the face.

"I only now realized that was the first place I should ask about this," she explained under Caius' questioning gaze. "I already paid for training in Destruction school of magic and fighting with a spear. And it costed a lot."

Indeed, next to the gear the training was the greatest expense in the lives of adventurers, which is also the reason why most of them doesn't reach retirement - they start with some basic skills from working as a lumberjack, the cheapest set (or maybe just a part of one) of armor the local blacksmith had and their pa's axe and expect to be ready for what the world will throw at them. Azirra had no such delusions - when future victims of bandits and animals were happily losing themselves in the tales of heroes that always survived every encounter, she had to focus on actually surviving on the streets of Kvatch. Furthermore, she had no intentions of becoming a rich adventurer - she preferred to be a living one, so she didn't waste her money at the tavern like most representatives of her profession.

"Spear? Interesting choice for a battlemage. Who are your trainers?"

"Amiulusus from Fighters Guild and Marayn Dren from Mages Guild."

Imperial nodded slowly.

"I've heard about both of them, though we haven't met in person. Nine-Toes assured me no one else in Fighters Guild on Vvardenfell is as skilled with the spear as your trainer. One of my informants, Fast Eddie, also mentioned Dren is a really good teacher when it comes to combat magic. He used to be a Telvanni, so he knows best."

"'Used to be'?"

"Yes. Fast Eddie, or Edd Theman if you want to be formal, is a former Telvanni wizard who went imperial and joined Mages Guild. Somewhat of an oddity. He lives here, in Balmora. The first person I talk with when I need some info from the east coast. Anyway," Caius opened a drawer and started to search for something inside. "I think you need at least the basics of swordplay, even if you do not intend to rely much on your sword. It's just a waste to have a weapon, but not the knowledge how to use it. Knowledge about daggers is valuable as well, comes up very often in our trade. You also obviously need some knowledge about some silent ways to win a battle before it truly begins, flashy spells are too obvious most of the time."

"Geez, you make it sound as if I should know how to use every single kind of weapon there is. I already depleted most of my reserves on my two trainings and it's not easy to earn two thousands septims."

That was probably the first time she saw Caius shocked.

"Two thousands? What kind of training costs THAT much?"

"I asked them both to teach me everything they know on the subject."

For a few seconds the Spymaster was struggling to find words. In the end he sighed.

"That would explain a lot... In that case take this." Azirra grabbed the pouch her boss tossed at her. "After taking care of your missions without a single hitch you deserve some bonus. There are two hundred drakes inside. Go and treat yourself to a new pair of shoes."

Azirra glanced at her catlike feet.

"It would be a miracle to find boots in such size."

"Just a figure of speech. Anyway, how much money do you have in total?"

"Let me think... Selling the loot from Vivec gave me around five hundred, then three hundred from Ra'Virr for six dwemer coins... I bough a new set of clothes for sixty septims and some ingredients for almost one hundred, so... I guess I have over one and a half thousand, not counting what you just gave me."

"That's... actually not as bad as I thought. You clearly have done some work, hm? Anyway, with your new rank you should be able to convince Rithleen to teach you how use the sword for a really small price. Just out of curiosity, how are you doing with the Guild?"

"Not bad, though I haven't done much since my promotion. My friend Ajira suggested to look for work in Ald'ruhn, since she knows the leader of that hall. I could ask Ranis Athrys for tasks, but... others told me what kind of jobs she gives."

Cosades sat down on his bed and gestured to do the same. Azirra did so and elaborated.

"I've been told Athrys holds a big grudge against Telvanni. Ajira said some people from her family were killed by them and now Athrys does anything she can to strike back at them. From time to time she gives new members looking for work a task of converting some Telvanni wizards to join the Guild. Dren even claimed when he was given such a duty she expected him to kill the mage if he were to refuse."

"...That is troublesome," stated finally Caius. The Spymaster rubbed his chin in puzzlement. "Me and the other agents don't pay much attention to the Mages Guild, so things like that slip by unnoticed. With the Sixth House on the move, the usual disputes between the Houses and the incoming clash between the Thieves Guild and Camonna Tong we can't afford to look on better behaving factions. This however... With one of the highest ranking mages in the province having a vendetta against one of the Houses and Archmage Trebonius being his normal clueless self this problem is only going to grow until it gets blown out of proportions."

For a minute or so two Blades were sitting there in silence, with the younger one awaiting some sort of suggestion or order she usually got in such situations and with the older one deciding on the course of actions. At last Caius slowly nodded.

"As you probably know, Azirra, you are the only Blade I know that is the member of Mages Guild on Vvardenfell. It is your own ground, you must know it well. Find out what might become a danger to the people of Morrowind. Speak with the leader of each hall and discover their opinions on their natural rivals, House Telvanni. The last thing I want right now is another big conflict between imperial and Dunmer factions. Make more friends, make more connections. It's all up to you, in this you are on your own. Will you go to Ald'ruhn first?"

"...I guess so. I did every task that Ajira had, so I suppose it's time to introduce myself to her friend."

"In that case speak with our agent in the city, I think you already met her. I've heard some strange things happened recently there, but I find it hard to believe those rumors... Ask her directly once you are there, she might provide you with an intel." The tone he used and the fact he stood up gave Azirra the signal it was time to depart. She nodded and walked over to the exit.

"Oh, and one more thing," she said turning around. "I could use some excuse to come here from time to time. I was thinking... do you have someone delivering you skooma? Because..."

"...Because if not, then you would be able to play the role of a courier? Actually, that is a pretty good idea. People at the South Wall Cornerclub already know you arrived to the city when you had to deliver something for me. Yes, someone is already bringing skooma for the sake of my cover, Habasi herself. I'm certain she already knew my real job when she started, otherwise she would give the task to some underling. She tried to learn as much as possible, which was just fine since I did the same. With the tension with Camonna she probably wouldn't mind you giving her some more free time. Just expect her to try to investigate you at a later date as well."

"Will do." The Khajiit opened the door and took a step outside.

"Journeyman..." She looked over her shoulder at the Spymaster, who already had the forbidden book on his lap. "Be careful out there. And take your time, no need to rush back unless you learn someone wants to kill an Emperor or something like that. Good luck, Azirra."

She smiled. As far as bosses go, Caius Cosades was just fine. If only he got over his habit of walking around without a shirt... The sight of a sixpack on a fifty years old guy made her feel self conscious about her less than impressive physical condition (may the scarce prison food and lack of exercise be damned).

"Thanks, Caius. Have a nice day."

* * *

With a hum of advanced spell Azirra materialized inside the teleportation rune. A female Altmer guild guide standing next to her tilted her head.

"You look familiar, have I seen you before?"

"Definitely. I was here a few days ago," confirmed Azirra while checking the state of her clothes. She was wearing her expensive, official set of robes - just because the leader of this chapter was Ajira's best friend it didn't mean she wouldn't try to look her best. "Although the last time I dropped by for just a few minutes. This is my first proper visit. Last time I saw mostly sand..."

"In that case I think you picked the right day. So far there wasn't a sign of a sandstorm, a rare blessing this close to the Red Mountain." The mage hold out her hand. "I'm Erranil."

"Azirra. So, where can I find Edwinna Elbert?"

The Altmer smiled.

"I think everyone else is in Vivec already, but she's still doing some studying. Just find the table with the biggest mess on it."

"...Alright? Thanks, I guess..."

The Khajiit walked across the corridor and turned right to the stairs. She blinked at _two_ staircases next to each other, both leading on the lower level.

 _Someone had too much septims in a budget_ , she finally concluded as she walked down them to the general area. _A messy table... Ah. I understand now._

Sure, there were a few tables in the room, some with books scattered on them, but one in particular stood out. It was covered so well with all kinds of manuscripts, Dwemer devices and a literal junk that she couldn't even see the tabletop itself. Right next to that battlefield of science sat a middle-aged Breton woman. Azirra put two and two together and approached her.

"Excuse me?"

The wizard dropped the book she was reading and sent the poor Khajiit a death glare of a century. No, wait. That would be the look that Camonna Tong guy gave her when she fought him in the swamp. The second best death glare of a century then.

"What's so important that you would interrupt my studies? Don't you see I'm busy?"

"I have a letter from Ajira."

The frown didn't turn upside down, but at least it disappeared from Breton's face. She took the offered envelope and glanced at the content.

"Ah, I see... dear Ajira sure has a high opinion of you. Yes, if what she is saying is true, then you would be indeed of tremendous help in my studies." There it is, a smile. Very, _very_ small, but still. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Azirra. It is so hard to find someone who actually joined the Guild to perform magic rather than politics."

"...was that about Ranis Athrys?"

The woman rolled her eyes.

"Well, her too. If only it was JUST about her. Let's leave it at that. So. You want to receive some duties? I'll have you know that the tasks I need done focus mostly on acquiring materials for my research. It doesn't concern me how will you get them as long as it won't bite me back later on. You will receive gold in return, but from time to time I might offer some alternative reward and you pick what you prefer. Sounds good enough?"

"Sure. What do you have for me?"

"In my studies I discovered that the book called 'Chronicles of Nchuleft' might contain useful information. It is a rare dwarven tome. None of the Mages Guild branches have a copy and it is simply essential to my research. Would you find one for me?"

Azirra nodded. A certain Khajiit resurfaced in her memory. A Khajiit who owned a bookstore that had 'rare' in the name.

"Fine for me. I think I even know someone who might have it."

"Good, maybe I will finally make the breakthrough. Now go, I want to finish this chapter before I'll have to join others on the special meeting in Vivec. I swear, if it will turn out it's because Trebonius misplaced the document again..."

And the Breton promptly returned to the book, oblivious to the rest of the world. Azirra shrugged and headed upstairs, to the only exit.

* * *

Ald'ruhn was easily the most exotic city Azirra saw with her own eyes. Sure, Vivec was massive and impressive, but while Imperials wouldn't build some massive pyramids (and in the sea, at that), it was merely different rather than strange. Buildings were still buildings. But this? Azirra had no idea what kind of material it was - everything was made of some kind of... carapace? Where did those people even found bugs so big? Even those silt striders seemed too small to provide the Dunmer of Ald'ruhn with their bizarre replacement for bricks. Another strange thing, no windows in the houses - probably drilling a hole through something like that was too much trouble. That and judging by what little she knew about the city most of the time they wouldn't get sunlight inside anyway with those sandstorms.

It was beyond her why anyone would want to live here. Sandstorms? Check. No source of water or food nearby? Check. Cliff racers? Check. Waaay too close to the forbidden zone and the local evil god? Check. Sun hot enough to fry even said god? God damned check. The air was heavy and Azirra was already sweaty under all her fur even though it wasn't even a minute since she left the guild hall. And she just bathed too.

She already hated this town with passion.

 _Focus, Azirra, focus. First order of business, get yourself lodging and buy something cool to drink. Then you can rant, when sun can no longer treat you like a vampire._

Fortunately for her she didn't really have to search long - just several meters away from the guild hall stood another building, very similar to it... Scratch that, all buildings were similar here, the only noticeable difference was the size. There was also a signboard next to the entrance with the name of the inn on it.

Azirra sweatdropped and not just because of the heat.

"A Rat in the Pot? Seriously? Someone really doesn't want their own tavern to succeed."

"Actually, that's just to make sure people come here for Guild business rather than by accident." She jumped at the unexpected response and turned around to face the second most unpredictable person she knew."Cooking is quite decent in fact, even if most of the time you can't tell what exactly are you eating. Too much spices."

Azirra frowned.

"Dar'shanji, don't surprise me like that. In my line of work it's only a matter of time before I learn to send a fireball at anyone that sneaks up on me." Her gaze wandered over to the very familiar pouch he was holding and her frown increased as he tossed it back at her. "And stop pickpocketing me for fun."

"Only once you learn to keep your money safe, I'm not the only thief around you know. What brings you to this hole full of sand?"

"Guild business."

"That makes two of us then. Erm... Say, are you going to be at the guild hall in about an hour?"

Azirra looked at him with suspicion. Friendly he might be, but a thief is still a thief.

"I don't think so, the guild guide said everyone from this hall will be at... oh." She wasn't impressed. Not at all. "...You're going to steal anything that isn't bolted to the floor, aren't you?"

Dar'shanji gave her a sheepish smile.

"I wouldn't put it quite like that. Aengoth asked only for an enchanted tanto..."

"...which you will take, as well as anything that catches your eye." She shook her head and opened the inn's door. "Whatever, not my problem, I do not have anything there."

Both Khajiits entered the tavern and soon they both sat at one of the tables. Dar'shanji asked for something called 'matze' - it was beyond Azirra why would he drink something this strong at this time of the day. Yes, she asked for alcohol as well, but the stupid publican didn't have anything else to offer.

"So..." Dar'shanji started. "...I said what is my guild business, what's yours?"

"Edwinna wants me to find her a rare book. Nothing special." Azirra looked at him in a strange, expressionless way. The thief seemed nervous and she had a pretty good idea why. "Habasi told you to spy on me?"

"Wha- no, not at all! Why did you..." He stopped his rambling and just confirmed with a sigh. "Yes. Yes she did."

Azirra returned to her drink.

"How did you know?"

"I had a talk with her this morning. I'm taking over the delivery. Caius knows your guild already has plenty of work to do even without having to do leg work to supply some old skooma addict... especially if for some unfathomable reason it's the local boss that does it. You guys really aren't subtle at all."

Dar'shanji chuckled, but it wasn't his normal carefree laugh.

"Old skooma addict? Azirra, please, do not insult my intelligence. I've seen plenty of skooma addicts in my line of work and I can tell that if he's indeed drinking it, then he must have the resistance of an Argonian, not to mention that for a so called recluse that never leaves his house he has plenty of friends in many strange places. Thieves, scouts, smugglers... you. How do you, a beginning mage that came out of nowhere, fit into all of this? I do not owe you anything anymore, so don't expect me to just ignore all of this."

 _Well, Caius was right, Thieves' Guild is onto me now that I'm not hiding from them that I meet him often._ Azirra's small smirk was hidden by her glass as she slowly sipped her cheap wine. _At least it's the new recruit that is doing the interrogation rather than Habasi. I would be probably done for in that case._

"What do you expect me to tell you? That I'm a member of some cult that intends to summon Sheogorath with a city's worth of skooma? Perhaps I used to be a smuggler that decided to change her profession before it could put her behind bars? Or maybe back in Cyrodiil Caius was like an uncle to me and now I'm trying to slowly cure his addiction? Whichever it is, I can tell you one thing for sure: it is none of your business."

The thief's mouth dropped and she smiled innocently.

"What? You are rude to me, I am rude to you. Problem?"

Dar'shanji huffed in irritation, gulped down his drink and stood up.

"Do not misunderstand me, Azirra. I like you and maybe we will even become friends, but guild comes first, it always does. If Habasi finds your friend suspicious, then by extension so are you. Breaking into tombs, stealing skulls, talking with _dragons_... What in Oblivion are you doing?"

She ignored his question. The thief turned around.

"Ugh. I don't even really care and it's clear I would only waste my time. I have a job to do."

"Fine, go then. Have fun stealing from my co-workers," said calmly Azirra, although in fact she was anything but calm. The small scratches her claws made in the glass said that much. The other Khajiit left her to drink alone. "The nerve of that tosspot... First being all buddy buddy and now he acts like this..."

* * *

"I'm sorry, _what?_ "

"That about sums up my exact thoughts on the subject," stated Gildan, Ald'ruhn's resident Blade. As it wasn't their first meeting, the Bosmer was quick to share anything of importance that happened in the city since their last meeting, like Redoran council's decision to strike another rogue Telvanni base, which were apparently popping up all over Vvardenfell ever since the changes were applied to the Armistice. The situation was so bad that it could turn into an open war at any time.

All that political crap however paled when compared to the fact that just two days ago a certain dragon gave the locals quite a fright by diving above their city for no apparent reason.

"...a dragon? Seriously?" While Azirra already knew about Rotheimaak's presence, Gildan definitely wouldn't be the first person she would tell. That would be her boss.

So far she did exactly as the unpredictable dragon said and kept the secret of his involvement to herself, as just the thought of telling Cosades that she met a dragon in a freaking tomb made her feel stupid. In fact she suspected that was exactly why he appeared the way he did - all three times he did so while doing something that didn't make a lick of sense. First he dropped a Bosmer out of the sky right in front of her just for fun and that was it, there was nothing more to the encounter. Then he somehow found the Dwemer puzzle that was meant to be somewhere in the ruins (even though the weird rotating entrance to them was not only slightly bigger than his head, but also _rotating_ , meaning he couldn't squeeze past it anyway) and just so happened to guess that she needed it. The third time he was already waiting there _before_ she even entered the tomb. Mentioning even a single of those encounters would have her labelled as one of Sheogorath's faithful.

Azirra had a feeling the old spymaster knew about dragon's appearance at Ald'ruhn even though he only mentioned strange rumors. He must have felt just as uncomfortable about speaking of such nonsense to someone else, even if it was true. And so he remained silent, much like her.

Well, no more. If the clown decided to reveal himself, then there's no point to keep it a secret. Even if Rotheimaak claimed telling Caius about his involvement in her duties was a bad idea, there was simply no good reason to believe him - as a matter of fact his actions were indeed suspicious and should be discussed with the spymaster at this point.

"Yes, a dragon! I'm not joking, an actual dragon flew over the city."

"Alright, if you say so..." Azirra made sure to answer in the way that suggested she didn't quite believe her, just to make it believable. "So this is what Caius meant by 'strange things happening'?"

"Well, yes. Though I must say there's one more problem, one you could help with. A serious one." The Bosmer winced. "We have a corprus beasts' infestation in the city."

...

"As in... the abominations on the service of Dagoth Ur?" asked Azirra with dread. She wasn't going to forget that guard's warning anytime soon.

"Correct. They showed up in the middle of the night at Morvayn Manor. A few people died, including the councilor. We still don't know why they attacked there of all places - as far as I know Remas Morvayn didn't stood out when compared with other councilors except for the fact he hadn't lived at Manor District. Perhaps that was the only reason - his home was the most vulnerable."

"You said 'infestation'. Doesn't that mean those things are still around?"

"They are. The guards attempted to retake the manor, but they didn't get too far, there's just too many of them in there. The Temple used wards to block the entrance and that's it - no one can enter, but the beasts can't leave. It will stay that way until the Ordinators send the striking force. Thing is, from time to time more corprus beasts comes now to the city in order to get to the manor and the townsfolk are getting more frightened every day, even though so far the guards managed to repel all attacks."

"I see..." Suddenly a very bad feeling overcome Azirra. "...Why did you said I could help?"

The other agent refused to look at her, instead preferring to look at the wall. Azirra's heart dropped all the way to her stomach.

"I've learned that the Sixth House spreads it's influence with strange, small statues. I don't know how exactly, which we simply must know if we are to fight against them. A new friend I made in House Redoran, Sanalcea Turealas, informed me that one such statue was seen in the manor shortly before the attack. We need to examine it. We need to get it before Ordinators appear."

The feeling of dread increased rapidly.

"You... you want me to enter the building that the entire guard force of the city failed to take back. _Are you mental?_ "

Gildan obviously wasn't happy about the accusation.

"Ugh. You aren't the one that will get the statue, that would be me. My post, my work. I just need another pair of hands to pull it off. Now listen. I have a really good plan and you won't even have to enter the place, I swear. There's a nice reward with your name on it if you accept."

The Khajiit mage narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"What kind of plan and reward?"

* * *

 **...aaaand cut! A bit of a cliffhanger again, but not really all that bad compared to the previous one, you will live. Right now we are in this strange moment after both Azirra and Rotheimaak inserted themselves into the world of Morrowind, but before they truly start to rock the boat. If you have ideas how to make this stage more interesting, write away. I'm not exactly without ideas myself, but they don't seem all that great to me. M'aiq received unfortunate visit from our dragon troll, who should be the next victim? xD**


	19. Rocket jump!

**So, apparently I'm still alive. Imagine that.**

 **While I could certainly write about my transition from university life to job life (gotta earn those munies for new laptop), the excuses is definitely not what you are looking for. That would be more chapters. Hopefully, now that things have calmed down on my end, we won't have to experience another blackout for six months.**

 **I'm still waiting for those assassins, mind you. My double is getting restless.**

 ** _coduss_ \- I dunno, Pelinal was a robot who was sent back into the past to alter the future. I think he is just as awesome as Reman.**

 ** _DiscriminateTheOlea_ \- At last, a purely offensive comment, this story finally become another normal part of a statistic. Just so you know, I do proofread my own work. Sadly, there's only so much I can do when English isn't even my first language, which is the only reason I was looking for a proofreader in the first place. Some mistakes the author simply doesn't notice just because he doesn't know they are mistakes in the first place, that's why the job of a proofreader came to be. At this point I also pretty much don't even search for a new one, I did so back when my update schedule was somewhat decent (not that I see how that would really matter - more time between updates means more time for proofreader to do his own thing), at this point I complain just because I can. Sincerly, Logic's a Bitch.**

 ** _Guest_ \- No arguing with that, House questlines aren't interesting. It's just... I really do not like it when storyline is completely devoid of realism. You don't just instantly become the key to stopping the bad guy, you need time and boring, gruelling work so that the end result is worth it. One of the reasons I dislike Skyrim - in every single questline you almost right away become "the choosen one" to almost every npc of the faction. We are hired to kill an Emperor? Sure, let's give the task entirely to the newbie simply because a disembodied voice told him so. The reason so many people like the Dark Brotherhood questline in Oblivion is because so far it is the best balance of struggling to prove the worth of main character and telling an epic tale. Outside of this very few canon questlines get it just right. Not even in Morrowind. In the end though I would rather have mostly consistent questline with but a few highlights than anime level of illogical storytelling. To each their own, I guess.**

 ** _Guest_ \- sigh... I wouldn't be surprised.**

 ** _GameJunkie7_ \- Actually, Roth IS overpowered. The strongest warrior of Erabenimsun, tribe well known for great fighters, got squashed even though Ted wasn't playing dirty. With the exception of ash vampires, Dagoth Ur and Tribunal he is the toughest cookie on Vvardenfell. He simply doesn't appear overpowered since Rotheimaak himself isn't confident of his skills and so he rarely solves problems with force alone.**

 ** _TheSparkleFoxAuthor_ \- It's getting kind of difficult to insert him at this stage - right now he is supposed to hang out around Urshilaku camp and meditate, so that he can pull of a convincing act of a sage when it comes to Thu'um. I think he will be in the next chapter, though.**

 ** _mk0008_ \- Unless Azirra will ever happen to stumble upon him, it is unlikely he will make a second appearance - Ted certainly doesn't have any reason to visit him again anytime soon.**

 ** _Some Guy In An Ambulance_ \- I'm pretty sure at this point Caius already knows about the dragon. Since he is a Blade it isn't exactly strange for him to know they aren't a myth at all. Let's not forget there's actually already one canon dragon in Morrowind and he most certainly knows it. Poor guy probably just didn't want to appear like a madman by talking about dragons over Ald'ruhn.**

* * *

 _This is so stupid_ , thought Azirra as she crossed the gap intentionally left in the walls surrounding Ald'ruhn. She felt the gaze of numerous guards on her back. _This is completely stupid._

At this moment none of her associates would recognize her. Better, no one would even be able to tell she was a Khajiit except maybe for her brethren. Her entire body with the exception of the face was shrouded by a dark grey cloak and on the head she was wearing a strange helmet that, she was pretty sure of it, was partially made from some abomination's skull, with two oversized tusks sticking out where the mouth should be. In her right hand rested a long staff, one crude and gnarly enough to be mistaken for a tree branch.

Dunmers once more surprised her by the lack of reaction other than glares of suspicion. If someone dressed like her tried to enter through the gates of Kvatch, they would be immediately chased out on a well founded belief that someone like that is definitely up to no good. The 'I'm going to resurrect all corpses on your cemetery' or 'I wanna open the gate to Oblivion' level of no good. But here, in Ald'ruhn? No problem, we have wretched witches drinking at our bars every few days, come in. Just don't cause trouble or you will regret it.

The fact is that the locals actually loved it when some scum showed up to liven up the place. As it was House Redoran's seat of power, the city was filled with all manners of warriors and combatants. Why did they build a city in an ash covered desert, in a shadow of dreaded Red Mountain? Azirra finally found an answer - it wasn't the presence of a shrine, they just wanted to be challenged. When you started a brawl here, you could bet your arm that half of the district would soon join in. When in some forgotten hamlet in Skyrim you shot a chicken, you should expect a tough fight with some of the villagers and a crapton of guards. As no one owned something as ordinary as chicken in Ald'ruhn, it was impossible to say what would happen if you did the same here, however Azirra had an unsettling thought of Vivec suddenly appearing to smite the criminal so badly the legendary giants of Skyrim would turn green from envy.

By the way, did I mention that pretty soon she was supposed to pick a fight with a regiment of guards?

At this point Azirra reach the top of small stairs leading to a higher area of the city, which had a number of shops and, most noticeable of all, the Skaar. It was the first time she saw it in person from so close. She felt her jaw hit the bottom part of her bony helmet.

If you live in any area of Tamriel that has an access to a body of water, you definitely know of the plague known as the mudcrabs. Those persistent and annoying pests rank as the fourth biggest reason the tourism never become a profitable business, right after the bandits, slaughterfishes and bloated, citizen-unfriendly bureaucracy of the Empire. They are however nothing compared to the legendary Emperor Crabs, which were easily one of the biggest animals of all times. How big they were? Well... how about big enough that its shell served as a separate district of Ald'ruhn?

Yes, that's right. No one knew just why such a massive creature decided to leave the depths of the sea and walk one third of Vvardenfell's length to finally stop in the shadow of Red Mountain. If you believe the storytellers of House Redoran, there was even some sort of epic fight with the huge creature. Now inside its empty shell one could find the main hall of Redoran, several highly successful businesses and manors of all councilors of this House.

All but one.

After the shock of seeing a crab meat lover's wet dream wore off, Azirra turned right, to the more spacious area on the side of the Skaar. It wasn't difficult to find the manor - besides the increased size it also was further away from other buildings and had a shimmering barrier placed on the door. Her eyes wandered over to the group of guards standing nearby. One person stood out amongst them.

 _You, old man, have a good taste in a weapon of choice_ , thought the masked agent at the sight of a bizarre 'spear' in the hand of the only man without bonemold armor, who was instead dressed in a set of robes. His weapon could be only called a spear if one believed that placing a soulgem on the tip of a staff was good enough. Still, it looked mystical and fancy. Although Azirra was actually below average (for a Khajiit) when it comes to kleptomania, she still felt a pang of disappointment that she wouldn't be able to get her hands on it.

The agent reached into her robe, pulled out two small vials and downed one of them.

 _Ugh, it tastes like wax..._

Before you ask: no, we won't tell the unfortunate episode that resulted in Azirra becoming fully aware of how wax tastes. Let's just say it involved two fellow beggars, a cellar, a crate full of lettuce and a group of angry guards. Fourth wall or not, I'm not risking bringing Nerevarine's wrath upon myself by bringing up that shameful night.

Azirra took a deep breath. _Here we go._

Khajiit casually walked up to the group of guards, which immediately become more alert at her proximity. She stopped several meters away from them.

"Greetings to you, followers of the false gods," started Azirra in her best imitation of female Dunmer's voice. In her opinion it was awful. "Here, have a taste of power of the real ones."

A second vial hit the ground and a cloud of lavender smoke hit everyone nearby. It was lavender in color, not smell - which was like that of a pit of rotting corpses. Even Azirra, with her heavily perfumed helmet, felt like chopping off her nose. When some of the enemies, including the mage, dropped to the ground, she wondered if tossing the fireball at them would be indeed more cruel solution. As soon as the staff with the soulgem left the sorcerer's hand, the magical barrier blocking the entrance to the mansion disappeared.

Azirra crouched slightly as the guards that managed to make a successful save vs spell rushed her.

She was slightly sceptic when fellow Blade told her of the potion she was given for this mission, but she had to admit the results were astonishing. Never again would she write off the alchemist from Vivec that Gildan bought it from. It was made to drastically increase one's ability to jump and was apparently a better alternative to the Scroll of Hoptoad... or something like that. And hopped she did - just one jump got her out of guards immediate reach and on top of a smithy. She grinned under her helmet, wider than even she thought she could.

While this entire plan was stupid and dangerous, she had to admit the looks on everyone's faces made it worth it. Azirra valued her survival much more than some laugh at others' expense, but in the heart of every Khajiit was that irrational desire to make fools of everyone else, much like ordinary cats. Most of her race simply went with the flow and expressed it in a bit of chaos in their everyday lives, although there were exceptions like Azirra, who instead ignored it until inborn desire for some mayhem exploded on its own. There are many differences between races of Tamriel and not just physical or magical ones.

So please, don't blame Azirra for laughing in an over the top way before throwing a ball of magically conjured poison at the crowd of law officers below, who promptly scattered. At the edge of her vision she noticed the door of the mansion opening by itself only to shut immediately. She struck a dramatic pose while pulling out a scroll at the same time.

"By lord Sheogorath's well trimmed beard, taste the fury of Dementia!" She opened the scroll with the intention of summoning a group of extremely annoying scamps and...

 _...Uh oh._ She hesitated as she saw a line of daedric letters, with the meaning behind them completely eluding her. _I knew I forgot about something._

She stood there for a moment with a scroll unrolled and absolutely no idea what to do, when out of nowhere something flew right in front of her face. She stumbled back, while also noticing a brand new hole in the parchment. She dropped the scroll and scowled at the sight of an archer in the street below preparing another arrow.

With an ungodly screech the witch turned tail and jumped away, not ready to face more violent side of the law. She didn't have intentions of picking a real fight in the first place, just causing distraction big enough to let her partner in crime get to the mansion.

 _Quick, Azirra, think! You need a way to escape the guards! You can't summon scamps to slow them down and teleporting away with Divine Intervention is not an option either since that too requires reading a scroll..._ She landed on a roof of some tavern in the lower district of the city, but still not far enough to loose sight of the pursuers. _I can't outran them even with the potion, the silt strider is out of the question, hiding in Gildan's house would compromise her, uh..._

"Eeeek!"

The audible and rather embarrassing conclusion of her inner monologue was caused by the fact that the potion she used had worn off right as she tried to jump from the roof of the Mages Guild to the one of the Fighters Guild, causing her to make a very much average leap that ended with her landing face first, fortunately not with enough strength to give her more than a possible concussion. As she lacked time to take it easy, she stood up immediately and just as fast the vertigo almost made her fall again. She used the door to bring herself back to her feet.

 _Ugh, at least there are no guards here right now... but not for long. I must, I must... Wait a second. Mages Guild?_

An idea struck her.

 _Everyone is away at Archmage's place._

She opened the door hastily and doubt hit her as soon as she noticed the interior. It involved a certain male Khajiit with a blood covered sword, an even more bloodied Breton on the floor and a small stash of valuables that was right now being picked up by the killer.

"Err..." said Dar'shanji hesitantly. "This one can explain?"

They just stared at each other for a moment, Azirra too shocked to do anything and he hesitant to attack someone that could easily ran away into the street while screaming about the murder.

The clanking of armor that slowly reached them with increasing volume made the decision for the mage and she slowly closed the door behind her, never for a moment taking her eyes off the thief, who looked just about ready to give in to fight-or-flight instinct, something that could doom her no matter what he picked. Dar'shanji was definitely more dangerous than her at such close distance and him running out of the building would alert the guards outside and probably make them check inside.

To her horror he came up with the course of action faster than her and it was one she liked the least.

"Gods damn it, Dar'shanji!" she screamed as the sword cut through the place in which just a second ago was her head. "Stop it, you idiot, it's me!"

It appeared that the other Khajiit fortunately recognized her somewhat muffled voice.

"...Azirra? What are you...?"

"Not now, we must hurry!" The mage looked with panic at the corpse behind the thief. "We can't stay here like that, sooner or later the guards will enter with hope of someone seeing me..." Her breathing got faster. "Even if I manage to change clothes and you somehow hide the body, there will be no way to hide the blood..." Her tail started to twitch erratically, mirroring her mental state. "If I change and we just walk out as if nothing happened, then once the body is found we will be hunted down and..."

Dar'shanji sighed, reached into one of his pockets and pulled out two vials, which he proceeded to shake in front of her face. She blinked.

"Invisibility potions?"

"Invisibility potions. We have only ten seconds, so make it count."

* * *

"You owe me one potion, just so we're clear," stated the thief as he collapsed at a table in the back room of Rat in the Pot.

"I wouldn't need to use it in the first place if you weren't killing someone in there when I entered to just remove disguise. It's all on you." Still catching breath after a mad dash from the crime scene to the safety of the Thieves Guild's safehouse, Azirra struggled to take off the boney mask. It definitely was designed for someone whose nose was separated from mouth. "Also, you almost took off my head."

"...Fine, so be it." He slammed his forehead on the table. "Dammit, why did something like that had to happen again? First that noble in Balmora, now this..."

"Sounds like someone is losing his touch," grumbled the woman, still not quite ready to forgive him. "Either that or the guild changed its policies about not killing witnesses."

"It wasn't me, he was the one to first pull out a dagger!"

"...Yes, maybe, but I was talking about ME, you bastard!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Oh, don't worry, it's not much, really... My life is merely the only truly valuable thing I have, no reason to feel bad." The glare she pierced him with was only marginally less deadly than an actual blade. "You can easily make it up to me, I only need an additional head. In case, you know, some another psycho tries to cut off the one I already have."

"Enough with the sass already!"

"Stop with all the screaming you two," commanded a Bosmer standing next to the stairs. "Just because it's our base it doesn't mean you can scream about our job as much as you want, there's a tavern above us! Now, Dar'shanji, I take it was a failure?"

"...Sort of. I have what you asked for, but some mage spotted me on my way out, even though you said there wouldn't be anyone. Had to kill him, he jumped me with spells and a dagger."

"By Nocturnal, they knew what we were planning to do again? They must have some sort of informant, there's no other option..." The local boss sighed. "Alright, if it was him who started and he cut off the retreat, then I guess I can let you off the hook, but please, don't make it a regular thing. Looks like we won't risk anymore jobs with Mages Guild anytime soon."

"Speaking of the Guild," started Dar'shanji, looking at the agent. "Just what were you doing there dressed like that?"

"It's nothing, just... needed a place to loose guards."

"And... why were they chasing you?"

The first answer he got was another glare.

"It's not really your business... but if you must know, I pranked them."

The Khajiit's brows, usually unnoticeable due to him being entirely covered with fur, reminded the world that yes, they were still there and yes, they could still rise at any strange comment.

"Pranked?"

Azirra looked away, once more happy that the same fur that masked brows could also hide blushing.

"...I dressed up as an Ashlander witch, gave them a stupid speech about false gods and threw a stink-bomb at them."

Dar'shanji blinked once, twice and then finally again dropped on the table, laughing his tail off. Azirra hissed in annoyance, with her face still uncomfortably hot.

"Shut it."

* * *

"How was it?" questioned Azirra as soon as the door closed behind Gildan.

"More dangerous, but also faster than what you did from what I heard," stated the older agent. "Just grabbed the item and teleported with a scroll. Had to stay out a bit longer though so that no one would get suspicious. What I wonder about is why you didn't use the scrolls?"

"...I decided that I can do just fine without them, which I did, and that I should save the scrolls for when I really need them." Yep. That's totally what happened. No ma'am, it's definitely not because I forgot I can't read daedric.

"Suit yourself, I did say you can use them however you want." Gildan placed a sack on the table and sat on a stool next to Azirra. "No problems on your end? I only saw the beginning."

"None from the guards themselves, I lost them."

"So something did happen?"

"Kind of. It's sorted out now though, so no worries." Khajiit focused on the elephant in the room, a sack containing a dangerous cursed item created by the priests of an evil god. "Can I see it? Just curious."

The other Blade saw no reason to object.

It was an ugly, little thing, a bit bigger than her hand and made from what she guessed to be a red clay, painted gray in a few spots. It slightly resembled a tiny sarcophagus.

"Are you sure this is it? As far as I know, and I should given that I'm a mage," Never mind that is the case only for the last week or so. "...all enchanted items should have a sort of shine to them and that is not the case here."

"Whatever Dagoth does to create corprus beasts hardly counts as ordinary magic. Wizards studying the subject are completely stumped at just how it works. My guess is that it's part sorcery, part divine power. Either way many rules are blurry when he is involved." Gildan packed the idol and stood up. "I should get going. Since the thing somehow attracts those spawns, I better bring it to the expert I found, I don't want them to end up at my house just because of being tardy."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"...right, sorry. It slipped my mind. Here you go."

With a smile Azirra accepted a spellbook. It contained a spell that just this morning she was convinced was overrated, but now she knew better - it was after all the same spell that inspired that alchemist from Vivec to make a potion that allowed her to escape the guards.

"Now, I know it's pretty good, but don't get too excited yet. Tinur's Hoptoad isn't as potent as the potion you had earlier," warned her Gildan.

"No prrroblem," answered Azirra, surprising herself at the not so subtle purring. "It will be very useful to me in the future."

* * *

After taking a walk in the market district (this time without any disguise) and selling off whatever loot from the slave den of Hinnabi she didn't yet sell back at Balmora, Azirra returned to her rented room at the Rat in the Pot. After closing the door behind her she dumped on the bed the content of her backpack. Now that it was all visible it made her realize it was easily the most she ever owned, even if you forgot about a rather sizable pile of coins.

 _Not sizeable enough though_ , she thought grimly.

Azirra wasn't greedy, in fact she would be quite happy as long as she had food, clothes and a roof over her head that wasn't in danger of falling on said head - that alone would be more than she was used to and was a reason why she actually didn't complain all that much about the prison, as it provided all three. What Azirra wanted above anything else was safety. That sadly meant that she had to invest a lot just so she won't put herself at too much risk doing her jobs. So far she didn't have to do much for the Mages Guild and she could decide whether or not she wanted to perform a specific task, but Caius would happily send her to the other end of Vvardenfell if the mission required it.

At this point she had around two thousand and three hundred septims. A single teleportation between two guild halls costed forty septims, including the membership discount. For this much one could sustain themselves almost a week. In other words it should be used regularly only by those with high, stable income and Azirra's income was anything but stable (not to mention a large part of it came from illegally selling loot from that Dwemer ruin). An hour earlier she spoke with the Dunmer owning a silt strider and compared the prices. There was no union for them or anything and that meant it could vary greatly depending on the distance (which was not a problem with teleportation) and how much the Dunmer would hate a Khajiit, which is definitely not the factor one could ignore. Still, it should be generally cheaper than teleporting all over the island, with the exception of the trip to the east coast, as the price for crossing the dangerous wasteland in-between was huge. For those reasons Azirra decided to reach Vivec via silt strider tomorrow - she already made an arrangement and even convinced the caravaner to make a short stop at Caldera - a mining town halfway between Ald'ruhn and Balmora in which very recently a new guild hall was opened. It was mostly to say hi, introduce herself, maybe check what they had in terms of tasks, possibly even find out how they stand politically, so that she would be closer to completing Caius' objective.

There were five guild halls at Vvardenfell - in Vivec, Balmora, Ald'ruhn, Caldera and Sadrith Mora. Ajira was nice enough to fill her in on what to expect.

Azirra already had a pretty solid opinion of the subject of Ranis Athrys leading their chapter in Balmora as well as the Archmage. The first one was a strict, sour woman that experienced too much difficulties in life and was incapable of forgiving anyone that wronged her. Trebonius was... well, a fool at best and brainless idiot at worst, with a side dish of minor case of insanity. She couldn't tell for sure with how short they talked, but Edwinna appeared to be a scholar with no interest in politics, but upset at how things were going in that area. With one competent leader out of three the situation at the Mages Guild didn't look great. She could only hope the other two were better.

Folms Mirel, the leader of their Caldera branch, sounded more like a hardworking manager rather than mystical wizard. His guild hall wasn't truly operational just yet - while some mages there offered training and trade goods, there's little in terms of tasks except for some big project Mirel is working on. More than that, from what she was told there were some problems with preparing the building itself, although she would have to check herself what it was all about, as Ajira wasn't sure either. Overall it seemed like that branch isn't very important just yet (some even say it's obsolete, as it is between two much bigger guild halls, those in Ald'ruhn and Balmora), nor would they cause much trouble, as they themselves still aren't very organized. Azirra was the most worried about the other remaining chapter, the one in Sadrith Mora - it worked after all in the very heart of Telvanni seat of power on Vvardenfell. Furthermore, its leader was an Argonian. It was as if someone intentionally tried to make the House hostile just by forcing them to cooperate with a member of a race they most despised. Was there truly no one else for that spot? It's not that she believed Skink-in-Tree's-Shade to be incompetent - she just found it hard to believe Telvanni wouldn't antagonize anyone in that position who wasn't an elf. Fortunately it was a worry for another day and for another Azirra. One that wasn't sleepy.

* * *

The next two days were a bit slow, with hardly anything being done - with teleportation she could jump from city to city instantly and quickly complete her objectives, but that was no longer the case. Traveling via siltstrider was... an interesting experience. Let's end it at that. It wasn't exactly bad, however sitting on top of a massive flea wasn't Azirra's favourite way of traveling. It was time consuming too - it took half a day just to get to Vivec. Granted, she did make a stop at Caldera, but still.

Speaking of Caldera - much like with Pelagiad, for a moment she felt as if she was back in Cyrodill. There was not a single thing about the small town that would suggest it was in the land of the Dunmer. The place wasn't anything special - beyond the inn and a few small shops the only place of any interest to her was the guild hall. Apparently it was supposed to be a place where Guild's researchers could study in peace, away from the problems of big cities. Now the location made more sense.

At the first look everything inside looked neat and tidy... And yet, as she climbed upstairs to find this Folms Mirel, there was some not quite formed thought, that there was something weird about all of this.

Only after a few sentences exchanged with Folms it become clear - some serious mistakes took place when the hall was still at the phase of plans. In this particular instance the Archmage made a particularly spectacular miscalculation, one that made Azirra realize that her former evaluation of Trebonius didn't really reflect his idiocy.

That moron didn't tell the architect that mages were meant to live at the hall, much like at any other hall despite it's different purpose. There was no sleeping area.

"It's not so bad," claimed Mirel. "After I finally managed to get a meeting with Trebonius, he had no choice but to accept the blame and fund our sleeping arrangements at the inn. Still, that only made our Morrowind branch even more of a joke in other provinces."

Mirel was very similar to Edwinna Elbert in terms of goals - above anything else he wanted the results in his research and he couldn't care less about the politics of the Guild. Their fields of study were completely different, however - while Edwinna focused on Dwemers, Mirel studied his ancestors, giving a lot of attention in particular to the ancient strongholds scattered across the island.

According to him in mostly forgotten times, when there were no proper cities on Vvardenfell, the Chimer, the direct ancestors to the Dunmer people, were instead living in large fortresses, which were all connected via teleportation network. Said network was miraculously still active, even though the strongholds were long abandoned by the Houses and some of them now held very questionable residents. In each stronghold stood two runic propylons, which allowed to move to two other strongholds, as a result creating a path that allowed travel to each of them, with the exception of long lost Kogoruhn.

In order to use said network one needed propylon indices, which served as keys. If one had right index, they could use a propylon leading to said stronghold. The system wasn't very effective as a result - one needed almost all indices just to travel without worry of getting stuck before reaching the right stronghold. Their desolation and dangers also didn't make it a very trusty method of transport. As a result the network was hardly used by anyone, as very few people possessed any index, not to mention several of them.

Folms Mirel intended to bring back the network and make it an additional service performed by the Guild - as the strongholds were spread out across the island and often standing in distant places, they could serve as a wonderful shortcut for many travelers seeking less common destinations. He was certain that with all ten indices he could create a master index of sorts that would allow to travel to any stronghold, while the propylons themselves would be redirected to lead back to the guild hall, creating a system that wouldn't fail if just a single propylon was damaged and that would allow to bypass more unfriendly strongholds.

The number of objectives for Azirra to achieve in Vivec increased after their talk - apparently some mage noticed an index at the temple in St. Olms Plaza, but at the time didn't know what it was. Folms promised that if it was an index they didn't acquire just yet (as he already had a few people searching for them) and she were to deliver it to him, he would pay five hundred septims - a truly mind boggling payment if the task was as easy as it sounded. Not to mention that every person that delivered even one such object would receive a master index once the project was completed, thus allowing the usage of network without any fees.

And so, as Azirra finally arrived to the city of Vivec, she decided to head to St. Olms as soon as she acquired the book for Edwinna. As she expected, the Twin Lamps bookseller had what she wanted, although she couldn't help but wince at the price - since the book was of a kind that would attract only an expert in the subject, it's value was way bigger than that of common spell tomes.

 _What kind of crazy imperial funds does Elbert even have? Back in Kvatch this much money would be enough to keep me warm and fed through an entire winter!_

Once she failed to barter with Jobasha for a discount ("Jobasha already included the discount! Do you want this one to go hungry, friend Azirra?"), she quickly found her way to the St. Olms canton, the plaza on the very top to be exact. After a short talk with an old priest (she made sure to pick one with the wrinkles that suggested he was actually capable of smiling) she discovered, to her disappointment, that someone else already took the index. Not a mage, though - just a fellow priest curious about the stone. One whose description sounded very familiar. For now it was pretty safe to assume that Remond Viralas, the oddly enthusiastic Dunmer she met twice before, had the index and probably didn't know its value. That was the good news.

The bad news was that according to a much less helpful priest at the library young acolyte recently went missing and it was already two days since anyone has seen him.

There was an even worse second bad news - he was last seen entering the sewers. Azirra silently said goodbye to her sense of smell.

* * *

Some people believe that a person is never truly dead until the effects of all its actions and presence fade into obscurity for those who are currently living. That line of thinking, however, is simply difficult to accept. Just ask Numinex, whose head is hanging over the throne room in Whiterun, and he will tell you just how not alive he feels. Oh wait, no, he won't. Because he is dead.

Anyway, if we will decide to accept that line of thinking for a moment, then you could say that a certain human-turned-dragon was about to gain eternal life, for he would be remembered by a truly unkillable being. Of course, that would happen for the price of losing his actual life, but hey, immortality in a song about the battle to death is a damn good ending according to most Nords.

In this particular song, however, Rotheimaak would unfortunately have a not very prestigious position of a hunted prey.

 _Then again_ , concluded his musings the hunter, _those hunted by me always gain prestige just because I deemed them worthy of my involvement_. The creatures, so far remaining hidden in the shadows, emerged at the call of their master. _Even if sometimes, like in this case, their worth comes not from their actions, but from circumstances. The only dragon who shares the blood of both aedra and daedra..._

 _There's only so far a pray can run before the hounds catch it. You came and left too quickly back then for me to act, but this time my hounds are ready._ Such were the thoughts of Hircine, the daedric prince of the hunt, as he reached out to his servants in the wilds of Solstheim. He wanted to have that unique trophy... or at least that's what he kept telling himself.

Truth is, he just wanted his pets to kill Sheogorath's beast, much like the Mad God's killed his own in that poorly made bet that no one with more than just one working brain cell would mention anymore in the presence of Hircine.

 _Stupid bird..._

* * *

 **It's a bit shorter this time, didn't find a really good spot to cut it later on. Also, if you have any good ideas for dragon troll to entertain himself in the middle of a wasteland, say so - lately I find myself at a loss what to do with Rotheimaak's half of the story until he meets with Azirra once more (excluding this little plot bunny above, which might not even kick in very soon). Until next time.**


	20. One of those days

**Chapter 20th! This time you didn't even have to wait half a year! Also, yay, I actually have a beta reader now, which hopefully will lessen the number of suicides in grammar nazi circles. Everyone, a round of applause for JDLENL! And now, like always, let's get to answering to reviews.**

 ** _Novus Irez_ \- Sometimes when I'm lazy it really IS a wiki! Or rather, a game content copied from wiki, but it's the same thing. It also keeps characters close to, well, character.**

 ** _Cheesecake244351_ \- Roth will certainly return to Red Mountain, but not before he either has no choice or is ready... or very drunk. Also, the scene with Rotheimaak discovering he is targeted by Hircine's hunt is already finished, I just don't know when it will came up. I never really make elaborate plans for the plot.**

 ** _CatsAreMyWorld_ \- I must say, I just love comments like yours, truly.**

 ** _FluffyDwagy_ \- For some time, maybe. But anyone owning Bloodmoon knows that sooner of later that confrontation will happen.**

 ** _Accursius_ \- There are word walls in Skyrim, yes, but Ted hardly needs them - the knowledge of the words of power was imprinted on him with becoming a dragon. He can become stronger only in three ways - by meditation, by experience and by nomming on the soul of another dragon. He will, however, certainly visit Skyrim as soon as Azirra will finish the main quest, when there are no more evil gods sleeping under the volcano.**

 ** _mk0008_ \- Save for a possibility of Rotheimaak mentioning ESO in one of his monologues, the chances of the subject coming up are small. It's action does take place hundreds of years before Morrowind, which limits the instances in which it may be brought up.**

 **Let's get started, shall we?**

* * *

Bored. That was a word which Ted has become intimately familiar with as of late.

Until his sudden...displacement, he didn't truly appreciate the value of civilization and the involvement of other people in his life. He could go for days with little human contact that had nothing to do with his job (and no, Jerry doesn't count as human contact—he suspected that freeloader was some subspecies of moss or perhaps a parasitic growth). His reputation as a Meme Lord was, for some strange reason, repelling others. Why would anyone dislike the finely-aged memes served twenty four hours per day, seven days a week by yours truly? Anyway, back home he didn't care much about not having enough interaction. If anything, he almost avoided it—in his line of work he had to constantly put up with human stupidity, and as such his opinion of humanity was less than great.

Now, however, things were different. He essentially got dumped into a medieval society with nothing to his name, not even a pair of pants to cover his ass. He wasn't doing terrible when it came to physical needs, since as a dragon he had very little requirements - a bit of (preferably elevated) ground upon which to hang out/meditate/kind-of-sleep-but-not-really, some water, a pancaked...err, hunted down guar once in a while. That's all. He didn't need shelter, since his scales allowed him to ignore anything that didn't try to actively kill him, like rain. He didn't need a toilet, since now everywhere was his toilet and it was widely accepted as part of the customs of his beast-like species. He didn't need clothes because a butt-naked dragon was normal, while a clothed one would be at least strange, and at most ridiculous.

"Hmm..." murmured Rotheimaak to himself as that particular thought found its way into his noggin. "I like strange; being interesting is the only thing you can hope to be in life. I must remember to acquire a dragon-sized top hat to further confuse people."

No, it was his mental health he had problems with. Even if we ignore the fact that at one point the Mad God had warped his entire body beyond recognition—mind possibly included—there's no denying it's hard to go from the security and comfort of his man-cave to camping out somewhere in the desert, waiting for a certain furry to wrap up her side quests and get back to the main one (now he knew how NPCs felt when, instead of climbing the damn mountain straight away, he went about stealing every single key in Whiterun just to bump up his stealth skill).

He missed his man-cave. He missed games that required more than just his imagination to play, the occasional bargain day at a supermarket that he would never see again, being able to just order the food to come to him instead of chasing it down the hill. Hell, he even missed his boss, who despite not being a stereotypical monster, wasn't very kind either (but not Jerry, the line has to be drawn somewhere). Why? Because he was used to it; those were constants in his life.

Now he found himself with way too much free time and too few ways to spend it. There's only so much a human-turned-dragon can meditate on without going crazy from inaction. If he doesn't quickly find a way to make his existence more interesting, he will surely loose his remaining marbles and fly over to the nearest town (Dagon Fel or Gnisis, probably?) to start filming the next Godzilla movie, to the horror of the locals.

His respect for Paarthurnax-senpai has grown tremendously.

Anyway, that is the sole reason why Rotheimaak decided to get closer to the only people around that weren't terrified of him: the Urshilaku tribesmen.

"So, in _vah_ , spring, your camp is always near the coastline, while at the beginning of _mah_ , the fall, you move closer to the mountains?"

"Yes, sage Rotheimaak," confirmed the tribal. The dragon was lucky enough to stumble upon a small group of them on the shore, where they were fishing in order to add more variety to their diet. "The sea provides us with more food, but in the colder months the wind blowing in from the sea makes it more difficult to stay warm without a campfire. In this region every piece of wood counts, since very few trees can thrive where the Red Mountain spreads its ashes."

Ted nodded. While he wasn't dumb (making weird choices isn't the same thing), during his old life he would have found it difficult to understand the viewpoint of Ashlanders and their nomadic lifestyle. Now, when he himself didn't have physical possessions and as such wasn't tethered to any particular place, it was easier to wrap his mind around the fact that someone doesn't want to have a house that can't be packed up and moved to wherever they want.

As of now, half of the summer has already passed, meaning that the Urshilaku will remain on the coast only for the next month, maybe two. Three, if the weather will be generous, which isn't typical for northern Vvardenfell and the Sea of Ghosts. During that time the Ashlanders will stockpile resources to get them through the winter, until they can move to the shore and bring back mudcrab meat and fish to their tables.

Suddenly, a lightbulb flickered on in Rotheimaak's head.

"Hm...now that I think about it, it has been a while since I ate a fish that wasn't a slaughterfish."

With a flap of his wings, the dragon lifted off the ground and glided across the water, with the tribals observing his actions for a lack of any other entertainment.

 _How should I go about this? I'm tempted to just boil the water and wait until everything goes to the surface, but I'm pretty sure my newly-acquired Yol isn't strong enough for that. The freezing shout and Fus won't help either and that last Thu'um of mine is still in its experimental phase. So, that leaves...ugh. Physical effort._ The dragon wracked his brain in search of a good fishing technique that wouldn't require hands. _Hold on, I think I've got it. If those weird birds can do it, then so can I—my maw is certainly big enough._

Rotheimaak opened his jaws wide and lowered his altitude until he was only slightly above the water. Once he was in position, he accelerated and stuck his lower jaw below the surface, letting in a lot of salty water, but due to the angle of his neck not drinking any of it.

And, after a few seconds, a fish. The jaws snapped close.

 _Success!_

The thought was followed by the captured slaughterfish biting his tongue.

* * *

A soft splash was heard as a hooded person with a makeshift face mask made of a piece of fabric dropped from the ladder onto the moist ground.

"...This is the third time in a week that I have jumped into the sewer. What in Oblivion is happening with my life?"

It was not just any sewer, mind you, but the very same type that Azirra has entered the last two times, when she had to contact the Thieves Guild informant under St. Olms Canton in Vivec. It was just as dark, stinking and disgusting as the previous one. Doesn't matter if the canton is populated mostly with Dunmers or outlanders, the shit of all races gives off the same stench.

 _Why, for the love of the Nine, would a priest come here? Even one as easygoing as Remond Viralas?_

 _Oh, wait. It's the same guy that willingly entered the Palace sewer and allowed himself to be flushed down into the sea by the mechanism controlling the flow of water. Repeatedly._

Not willing to stay there longer than she had to, Azirra brandished her spear (as, thanks to what little training she already had, she felt more confident with it rather than her sword) and went to the nearest passage in the wall, leading to another part of the sewer system. She barely withheld the urge to barf as a very unwelcome, moist sensation enveloped her bare feet. For the next few minutes the only sound in the canal was the barely audible squish with each step and the occasional squeaking of a rat somewhere further away.

And then, as she emerged from the other end of the massive pipe, the sounds breaking the silence of the desolated place joined with the murmur of someone talking.

Azirra narrowed her eyes. Several meters to her left someone had placed a lantern on the ground, right next to the door—something out of place in an otherwise bare sewer. The weak glow of a candle revealed the presence of two Orcs, speaking in hushed voices.

The Khajiit's fluffy ears moved to catch the conversation without approaching the duo.

"...comes for him? The longer he is gone..."

"I agree, but Azuk will be pissed if we decide on something like that without him."

"Not our fault he just happened to be out of town. We should resolve this quickly. I say we cut his throat and dump him into the sewer. The water will flush him outside."

"Don't be stupid! The bars in the canals aren't wide enough. He would get stuck and then, when the Ordinators start searching for their pal, they'd find him first and then our Malacath shrine."

 _OH. So that's why last time I met people with daedric gear in the sewer. For a holy city, it sure has a lot of evil cults._

"I could...cut him into smaller pieces, if you want."

"...let's make that plan B."

"...I could...eat him."

"Ugh, are you serious?! No, better question, are you sure you joined the right daedric cult?"

"The UESP wiki says there is not a single Namira shrine in the game. So here I am."

"That Bethesda and their low budget..."

"Exactly, bro."

Azirra judged the choices available to her. _It's pretty obvious they're talking about Viralas, unless there's another missing person that could be described as "the Ordinators' pal" (so, a priest) that went missing around here. Those two feel confident enough to make some decisions in the absence of the leader, so their group counts only three members, otherwise they wouldn't discuss it without the others to such an extent. It's dark enough that someone without the eyes of a Khajiit won't see me coming until I'm very close, right in the circle of light in fact. But...they are Orcs. One of them grabs my throat and it's all over. Even if my surprise attack will result in one instant fatality, the other guy will be right next to me while my main weapon will still be stuck in the body. Besides, the one in the robes is almost certainly a mage—am I a good enough spellcaster to get into a magic duel?_

 _...I'm sorry, Remond, but five hundred septims and your safety aren't on the list of things I'm willing to die for. Maybe I can convince some Ordinators to come here and whoop their asses instead of me, though._

"Perhaps we should interrogate him a little bit, see if anyone will look for him?"

"That doesn't sound bad, actually. I still have to test that Searing Flesh spell I learned. Alright, you stay on watch and I will get him to talk. And scream. Heh."

And then there was only one orc.

 _Crap. Now I'm out of time AND excuses._

A surprise attack on a single person that has his back turned to her? That she can do, even if the target is an Orc. If she left now to look for guards (that may not even believe her), Remond might end up scarred for life, or maybe even dead.

Azirra grasped her spear tightly as adrenalin slowly started to build up. She shook off what little..."canal water" remained on her feet as she slowly started to walk towards her future victim. Her steps were getting longer and her pace started to increase. Her soft paws moved without sound, superior to all but the best stealth boots out there.

Fifteen meters.

She was no longer walking, but jogging, with nothing on her person that could generate any noise. The Orc remained oblivious.

Ten meters.

Azirra was running now, with her spear raised above her head, her eyes focused on a little spot below the Orc's neck that wasn't covered by armor.

Five meters.

An ungodly scream went off in the room to the left and her opponent flinched, on reflex looking over his shoulder at the door...and noticing her in the middle of a leap towards him.

The tip of her spear clanged as it hit the ground. The sound was answered by the Orc's armored boot hitting Azirra's torso with enough force to knock the wind out of her and toss her into the canal.

The stench and sudden realization of what surrounded her on all sides was almost enough to kill her on the spot.

With a gasp, Azirra resurfaced from the pit of nightmares that was Vivec's canalworks and grasped a nearby ledge to nearly catapult herself out of the liquid with how much strength she used. She lied there, nearly paralyzed by the short (but very traumatic) experience as a large shadow appeared above her.

"You will make a nice offering to the great Lord Malacath. Brace yourself for your imminent sacrifice, cat!"

Suddenly, the Khajiit's demise was stalled as the door to the shrine opened and to the surprise of them both it was Remond Viralas that emerged, not the other cultist. Remond Viralas and a familiar, huge heap of iron.

"HAMMER, MEET FACE!"

Azirra watched in silent amazement as the friendly, somewhat-childish Dunmer priest swung the massive weapon at the Orc. The strike merely brushed him and yet it brought down the powerful warrior to the floor level and most likely ruined any chance of winning a beauty contest no matter how ugly his competition would be. Remond again raised the warhammer into the air.

"HAMMER, MEET WHAT USED TO BE A FACE!"

The weapon struck again, this time directly. Azirra cringed as blood, flesh and bones erupted all around her.

"HAMMER, MEET... ANYTHING LEFT!"

The poor Khajiit, with the edges of her vision quickly darkening, suddenly realized there was now some brain matter on her face.

Due to the circumstances, she actually welcomed the bliss of unconsciousness.

* * *

As it turns out, the terrible experience from her first day on Vvardenfell was easily bested. Back then, she woke up in a swamp to a dead body next to her. This time, she woke up in a sewer, covered in piss, blood and brain matter, with a dead, mutilated body next to her.

She barely maintained her grip on reality.

"Oh, you are awake. Good. I was...cautious about moving you. Because of the, uhh...because I was worried you had some broken bones the movement might damage further, yes!"

Azirra glared at Remon Viralas, barely visible from inside the chamber, while slowly gathering the strength to stand up and retrieve her lost weapon from beside her.

"Anyway, I already figured out you came here to aid me and I appreciate your help. Half of the loot is yours, of course. I didn't quite intend to raid daedra worshippers down here, but since they are already dead..."

"Didn't do anything...only got kicked..." murmured the Khajiit as she finally managed to stand up by leaning heavily on her spear for support. Her legs still wobbled like gelatin from the stress. Another note to self: don't attack a warrior three times your weight in melee combat.

"Nonsense. Thanks to you, the other worshipper not only wasn't prepared for me, but also didn't check on the other cultist while I was desposing of him. I'm not sure of the outcome if I had fought both at once."

Azirra knew it was bullshit—if the priest could wave around a warhammer bigger than himself, even two Orcs would find themselves hard-pressed to win. It's a wonder they captured him in the first place. She was, however, also out of patience and had a rather terrible experience just a few minutes ago, so she decided to ignore the other guy being overly generous and just accept it. The Khajiit entered the shrine.

The room was dominated by a large statue. She never saw any pictures that would have told her how he looked, but there was no doubt the Orc-like being carved in stone was Malacath. Other than that, there wasn't much that would be out of order in any other normal dwelling in this city, other than the second Orc corpse in the small room further in the back.

Remond piled all of the valuables he found in front of the statue. It was a rather strange mix of armor, weapons, gems, scrolls, potions and alchemical ingredients. At the sides there were also two small piles of coins.

"I think the money should be divided equally, while the rest we will share by picking one at a time. You start."

It goes without saying that she went for the only diamond first.

It also goes without saying that it was cursed, like the most valuable daedric shrine offerings tend to be, just to catch any looters unaware when they think the fight for the shrine is already over.

"PERISH, MORTAL!"

The Blade and the priest turned around just as a Dremora fully entered the physical plane. Both intruders froze for a moment.

"You at a distance, me up close?" asked Viralas.

"...Yes," agreed Azirra, already charging up her first spell.

"FOR LORD VIVEC!" declared the Dunmer, as he charged the enemy...and was promptly tossed aside by what turned out to be not just any Dremora, but a Dremora Lord.

"Crap, crap, crap!" chanted Azirra in panic as she released Sleep spell right into the daedra. To her horror, the monster didn't appear to be affected by the stamina-draining attack at all, instead doing the most sensible thing a melee fighter does when faced with a party of a mage and a fighter: mowing down the mage to remove the support.

The heavily armored giant barreled into Azirra like a mammoth on skooma, throwing her through the air into the statue and cracking the stone behind her...not to mention at least one of her ribs, if the unbearable pain in her chest was anything to go by.

Then, to everyone's surprise, the Dremora clutched his head.

"ARGH! MORTAL FECES!" shouted the Dremora, recoiling away. Indeed, an unfortunate reminder of Azirra's latest humiliation was splattered across his breastplate and helmet as a result of his tackle. "THIS IS SO NOT WORTH IT! I'M OUT OF HERE!"

And, just like that, the dreaded enemy that was more than capable of taking both of them down with ease disappeared in a ball of purple spatial distortion.

Azirra, barely able to breathe with her broken rib, and Remond, with his arm hanging loose, glanced at each other from their respective resting places.

"Let's just grab every-OUCH!-thing and split it later," proposed Azirra weakly while casting Balyna's Soothing Balm, which made her realize just how ineffective her only restoration spell was in the case of a serious injury. Also, for some reason, casting it right now brought the mild headache caused by the collision to a completely new level.

"Agreed."

* * *

Overall, this little adventure was a failure. Sure, she received some loot, but at the cost of drenching everything—the contents of her backpack included (even her much more fancy, official mage robe)—in piss. At the moment, after quickly taking a dive into the sea outside of the Foreign Quarters Canton, she herself was somewhat clean, although that didn't mean all of the problems caused by her latest misadventure were solved. She wasn't certain if the gains would even cover the cost of replacing everything that was damaged beyond recovery.

 _Yet another note to self: buy an airtight case for my books, scrolls and notes. ALL of them are ruined!_

Indeed, she suddenly found herself with a lot fewer resources. Her scrolls were beyond saving and while she still couldn't read them anyway, she had intended to learn to soon. Her clothes were soaked in... _they were soaked_ and no washing would help to get rid of the stench. Her supplies were now, of course, inedible. Two books she didn't leave at the guild hall, namely the second volume of Palla and a Guide to Vvardenfell, were ruined. The worst loss, though, were the notes from the investigations for Caius. Now if she forgot something important from her research, she wouldn't get it back, not to mention what her superior would have to say about it. On the bright side, there was no longer any danger of someone finding out about her secret service by simply pickpocketing her. At least she had that index from Viralas; he had picked it up out of curiosity and didn't have anything against giving it to a member of the Mages Guild who could actually do something with it.

Speaking of the priest, in the grand scheme of things his little visit to the sewers was a failure too—it resulted in a broken arm, a bruised side, and absolutely no progress in his own little investigation. As it turns out, he was searching for the culprit behind the recent killing in Vivec. Apparently, the killer was targeting only foreigners and Ordinators—a strange combination, given that someone hating foreigners would most likely like Ordinators, who were a royal pain in the ass for anyone not native to Vvardenfell.

"Looks like I will have to continue once I'm back to full health," stated Remond, climbing the stairs of the Temple Canton with great difficulty due to helping an even more injured Khajiit do the same. "As dangerous as those fellows were, I don't think they were responsible for the murders. The victims were not all found in the Foreign Quarters, just most of them, not to mention none died in the sewer itself."

Azirra merely hummed. She had quickly learned that talking in her current condition could be a bit painful. The duo entered the Temple and Remond stopped near a small table, at which an outright ancient priest was enchanting one scroll after another. She honestly doubted if the enchanter even noticed their presence.

"Alright, here we are. Are you sure you want to use the services of the Imperial Cult instead of the Temple?"

"Yes. No offense, but Dunmer are...uh...jerks to my kind."

"Hmm, I suppose that's sadly true. It's so difficult these days to find someone professional. Alright, which one would it...oh, here it is."

A scroll found its way into Azirra's hand and she frowned as she realized she once more encountered the same problem.

"...I can't read Daedric."

Viralas lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

"Truly? I though every member of the Mages Guild could do that."

"I'm relatively new and there has been no free time so far."

"Alright. I suppose I will just read the scroll for you and you can repeat after me while holding it; it should work just as well. It reads as follows..."

Azirra blinked as the Dunmer made a sound that could not be given any amount of justice by any mortal being native to Nirn. There's a chance Rotheimaak would have been able to do so—he would have compared it to a relatively meek growl from a death metal concert.

"Uhh...can you repeat that? A bit slower."

* * *

"Oh. You don't look good at all."

Azirra rolled her eyes at the remark. _I am bedridden in an infirmary of the Imperial Cult, and yet he is surprised I don't seem to be in good condition?_

"Haven't noticed."

The nearby Imperial monk merely shook his head as he put a few potion vials on the bedside table.

"You really should start paying more attention to your health, young lady. It hasn't even been a week since the last time I had to put you back together."

The Khajiit frowned and focused on the face of her healer. Yes, he did look familiar. His skin was very wrinkled, almost like a... walnut...

Oh, right. I remember now.

"Weren't you the one who treated me at Fort Moonmoth? I thought you were stationed there."

"Not really, no. I belong to three different monastic orders and two of them require me to be almost always on the move, either to gather herbs for our medical supplies or to perform an occasional holy quest. Though, to be honest, I think I'm getting too old for those."

Azirra studied the face ancient enough that a Nord with poor eyesight could confuse it with that of a draugr. _Who would have thought._ _Also, what was his name again?_

"I must say, this time you are definitely in a worse condition. What happened, an angry kagouti?"

"An angry daedra."

"...Adventurers, always so foolish...the way I see it, some ribs are cracked, and one is outright broken. A lot of bruises on the torso. You will need some ice for that bump on your head, but beyond that your skull handled the force well enough, at worst giving you a mild concussion. As far as I see the breaking of the rib didn't cause any serious internal bleeding. Could have been worse, given you fought the greatest enemy of mankind."

"Sounds great."

"Unfortunately, before I give you this healing potion, the rib will have to be moved a bit so it is in its correct place. It's not exactly dangerous, but if not done soon it will be problematic in the future. And yes, the procedure will hurt."

"Sounds terrible."

"And it will feel terrible if you remain conscious when I move the bone, so drink this first to make it easier on you."

Azirra grabbed the cup of freshly-made potion and downed it. It was mostly tasteless, a true rarity when it comes to such strong medicine. She blinked slowly as all her muscles went slack and she dropped back on the bed, with her eyelids closing almost as quickly.

* * *

"I can not fathom how is it that you can beat the strongest of my tribe, but fall short when facing a slaughterfish."

Manirai continued to be the being that Ted feared the most in the whole world (and that's saying lot when you include the Daedric Princes), and becoming his temporary dentist surely wouldn't help. He was terrified of dentists. Still, he had to ask for help from someone when the devil-spawn of the sea tried to kill him from inside his own mouth, and the Wise Woman of Erabenimsun was probably the only person in Tamriel that wouldn't hesitate to put her arm between his jaws. As majestic and sage-like as he pretended to be, she knew he was helpless in a situation like this. He truly had no idea how she could see right through him like that.

"They have 'slaughter' in their name for a reason, you know," grumbled the dragon before he spit out a bit of blood, hopefully the last of it—his draconic healing factor was already doing its job. "Besides, unlike with your _kendovve_ this one attacked by surprise and, as everyone knows, that gives it a triple damage bonus. Not to mention the inside of my mouth is about the only part not protected by _qah_ or _qethhe_."

It's a good thing his reputation didn't take a hit—through a truly godlike effort he managed to trick the others into thinking he merely took a willing bath in the sea after capturing his dinner and then he rushed to find the Wise Woman, with a deadly creature butchering his most vulnerable muscle the entire time.

"Then I'm afraid you will have to stick to hunting prey on land. The waters around Vvardenfell are full of them. Maybe the cliff racers, ancestors know they could use a natural enemy."

He snorted.

"No, thank you. They taste terrible. Besides, they already earned themselves a _dilos paal_. Saint Jiub kills them left and right."

She glanced at him in doubt.

"Saint Jiub? Never heard of him. Is he one of those people mentioned in the Imperial Cult or the Temple?"

"He is not a proper saint just yet, but once he kills off that _lir_ , his ascension is all but certain. Vivec keeps an eye on him, and no wonder—if I didn't know any better, I would say HE is actually the _hun_ of the age, not the Nerevarine," stated Rotheimaak, completely serious.

"Speaking of the Nerevarine, are you sure you chose right? We Ashlanders aren't so hostile when it comes to race alone since our own settled Dunmer people can not be trusted, but to have our greatest champion reborn as a Khajiit..."

"Yes, I'm certain. My visions aren't precise, but I know the most important _goltte_ in which the Nerevarine simply must appear, sooner or later. Seyda Neen, Balmora, the ruins of Arkngthand, the Andrano family tomb, Ald'ruhn, the Urshilaku camp...there's a ton of people who visited all of the cities, but the chances of someone entering both that specific tomb and those dwarven ruins are close to zero, especially at the same time I became active once more. Do you know that she also happened to be one of the people I met on my very first day, before I even started to _tovit_ for the Nerevarine? The only confirmation that we need at this point is that she makes her way here without any further clues from me. Then, it will leave no doubt."

"...If you say so. It is just so strange to wrap my mind around the concept of a Dunmer being reborn as a Khajiit—and one of opposite gender, even."

"Eh, it was arranged by the _Deyra Kulaan_ Azura and changing their gender isn't that big of a deal for any of them. The only thing I'm curious about when it comes to that is how Almalexia will react to hearing her dead hubby not only isn't so dead anymore, but also has both a tail and a pu-...and is no less feminine than her."

 _Whoa. That was close. I almost slipped up in my so-far perfect acting. Think like a dragon sage, Ted, like a sage!_

"I believe her only concern will be to silence him again, Rotheimaak."

The dragon moved his eyes sideways. He didn't actually have a good response to that—Manirai, like other Ashlanders, was convinced that the Tribunal murdered the crap out of Nerevar after he had beaten Dagoth Ur. The Temple, which didn't exactly have the best record when it comes to telling truth, claimed that said death was caused by wounds from the future Devil Under the Mountain. That was also what Vivec himself claimed. Rotheimaak wasn't certain who to believe, as both versions of the story were likely and neither could be proven. Who knew the truth? Only the Tribunal and Azura, and they would both lie if it would benefit them. As awesome as Azura was, using mortals as tools was simply part of the daedric mindset. Even if the user cared for their condition, they were still just tools to them.

Except, you know, according to the Ashlanders it wasn't just the gods who knew (both real and false), but also Rotheimaak himself, who brought Nerevar's body and the news of his fate to the Urshilaku. And that put him in awkward position. While the Wise Woman of Erabenimsun knew he, for some unknown reason, lacked the memories, she also knew he had no reason to give the Tribunal the benefit of the doubt. Thing is, with the knowledge granted to him by the Power of Lore Reading, he found it a bit difficult to believe Vivec would cheerfully slaughter his best friend for the sake of something as boring as toggling God Mode on his console. He wanted to believe that guy...if only because it would give the tale of Nerevar a better ending. And here he was, unable to say anything in his defense, simply because the plot hasn't advanced far enough to justify his opinion. And so, he decided to change the subject.

"You know, call me impatient, but I grow tired of waiting around with nothing to do but think. Your typical sage might not mind living in solitude for most of their lives, but I was always a bit of an adventurer, hence why I always accompany heroes instead of waiting on some tall mountain until the hero gets his arse up there. Is there anything of interest in the area?"

"Aren't you capable of easily crossing a large distance daily? The entire north coast is within your reach without having to spend the night elsewhere."

Rotheimaak blinked as the thought sunk in.

"Yesss...but it is also difficult to find anything worthwile to do. Over ninety-five percent of quests involve cities. _Nir_ , _krif -_ neither gives enough thrill. I require shady characters, I require plot twists, I require the annoyances and rewards of badly-scripted fetch quests, in short...I want to go on an adventure."

"I...see. You desire a worthy challange."

"Yes, that's it! It's lonely at the _naar_ and there are so few things to do. That's the real reason I slumbered away most of my life: it's so difficult to fight boredom when awake."

The sad truth of Ted's life is that he never found anything truly exciting. Over the years he found himself heavily disliking the grey, boring reality, after years of fictional adventures (read: video games) with which his boring job and modern style of life couldn't compete. One of the reasons he got used to dangers of his new life so quickly was that he never truly wanted the safety of advanced civilization. Conveniences, oh yes, he missed them dearly. Safety? Not at all. Back on Earth he was never given a chance to taste what real danger was like.

Call him crazy, but he actually desired for something, anything, to test his limits and put his life on the line. Perhaps it was indeed a seed of madness, or maybe that's just a part of his new, draconic nature. Nobody knows, with the possible exception of Sheogorath.

The Wise Woman of Erabenimsun placed her hand on her chin as she gave the subject more thought.

"There's indeed little to be done around here for those who desire adventure, but are too big to pass through the average door."

"Hey! Don't say it like that."

"In my opinion, you should strengthen your bonds with the Velothi rather than fly off in search of thrills. If you are to guide Nerevar reborn, our champion, you must understand the plight of our people. Meet and befriend some of us. Usually we would ignore such attempts from outsiders, but you aren't exactly one if the children of the Urshilaku know your name from their songs."

 _What? There are songs with my name in them? ...I wonder what they rhymed it with._

"Any ideas on where to start? I'm not saying I'll do it, but I'll keep it in mind."

"I've been told that Kurapli's husband was murdered by an outcast. Perhaps you should talk to her and..." At this point, Manirai remembered who was she talking to. "No, forget it. I don't think you have the right mindset to soothe one's mind after loss."

Rotheimaak gasped.

The Wise Woman's expression shifted to one of worry as the out-of-place sound was made by the dragon, who for some unfathomable reason had a glassy, unseeing look in his eyes.

"It's perfect! Making a friend and getting some swag at the small price of flattening some ponce by sitting on him!"

"Wait, could you repeat that last...?"

Rotheimaak, the dragon that already held the world record for the biggest number of kills caused by landing on animals, answered her confusion with a fire in his eyes.

"Fret not, Manirai! Now that I have a quest, my sucess, and the restoration of peace to Kurapli, is certain! Barring any kind of gross bug, of course, but that's something we have all come to accept when it comes to the Elder Scrolls. My invisible quest marker will ensure that... invisible...oh." Rotheimaak frowned. "This might actually pose a problem. But no fear, I will prevail anyway. Sheogorad isn't such a large region, there can't be too many possible camps out there, right? OFF, TO ADVENTURE!"

Manirai slowly hid her face in her hands as the troll flew north, to investigate one little island after another in search of a man that didn't want to be found.

"I honestly can no longer tell what is worse: waiting for his return so that we can fly back to my tribe, or walking this entire distance by myself."

* * *

 **I wanted to make this chapter longer, but that would make your waiting time longer, soo...**

 **Anyway, the one-sided beating that Azirra and Rotheimaak suffered from daedra lord and slaughterfish respectively was just a stupid accident waiting to happen. I always wanted to kill an important character out of freaking nowhere and this is as far as I'm willing to go at the moment. But don't worry, I guarantee that if either ever dies, they won't stay dead. One of the many perks of working as a professional hero.**

 **See you next time!**


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